


Awakening

by lighthouse



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, G'raha Tia POV, M/M, Memories, Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), NSFW (Ch.4), Original Character POV, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Reunions, Specific Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lighthouse/pseuds/lighthouse
Summary: G'raha Tia finds himself at a sudden and unexpected crossroads that will profoundly affect the rest of his life.5.3 spoilers ahoy! I set out to write the missing scene fluff for my boy, but G'raha Tia muse demanded to speak for himself in this fundamental juncture of his own story.Edit: I've decided to expand on this to include all of the missing scene and a little after. The first chapter remains G rated, but the rest of the story is likely to be M-rated. If it does get explicit I'll note that in the chapter title.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 59
Kudos: 165





	1. Awakening

After five long years of undisturbed slumber, a subtle shift in the aetherial atmosphere roused G’raha Tia from the depths of his dreams.

His cheek was cold and numb, and with a groggy, questioning murmur he raised his head from the cool Tower floor and peered about…then pushed himself up to sit so quickly that he was dizzy.

 _The seal was broken_.

He took in a shaky breath, awkwardly reached back with aching arms to sort out his mussed hair. Someone would be coming then. Someone had broken the seal. Blinking against the haze, he realized that he’d never considered what he might do, what he might say when this moment came.

Who would come? What would they wish of him? Would they be explorers seeking treasures and history, envoys of peace searching for understanding…or perhaps representatives of a superpower looking to harness a weapon capable of storing boundless energy? And if it were the latter, would he be able to protect the Tower? His stomach sank to realize that beyond setting the arcane slumber into motion, he’d done not a shred of experimentation as to how much the Allag structure would actually respond to his will.

And how many years had passed? Were the people he knew still alive and in their elder days? He swallowed. That did not seem very likely. The distant future, then? And would it be full of the wonders of an advanced civilization, or… He shook his head. Best not to dwell on terrible speculation—this was his fate, after all, and there was nothing to do but sit and wait for his options to present themselves.

Still, he had to press his hands to the cerulean floor to stop them trembling as he made out footsteps approaching—at an all-out sprint, from the sound of it. He thought to rise, but wasn’t sure he would be steady on his feet. He couldn’t give an appearance of weakness, not right now. Bad enough that he was dwarfed by nearly everyone he met, much less the imposing stature of the Tower. So he sat up straight, proudly lifted his chin…

…and then his mouth fell open as his beloved Warrior nearly toppled over from the hairpin turn taken to enter the doorway.

“Evi’a…” he breathed, unable to form any further words as the bard froze at the entrance, panting with exertion and staring at him with wide eyes.

“You…you’re already awake…” the Keeper gasped, tail lashing as he caught his breath.

“Th-the seal broke…” he answered faintly, heart racing. “Wh-why are you…did something…?” He watched with distant shock as the Keeper nodded, stumbled his way over and collapsed to sit cross-legged in front of him. He wanted to reach out but didn’t dare—he’d made his choice, and he’d done it without asking, left with nary a word of warning. He’d even had the temerity to go to the man, the night before he’d sealed himself away, and asked if they might travel the road forward together. Despair clutched at his heart—he had left then, as destiny demanded of him, and for all his regret for his past actions, for all the love he held for this beautiful Keeper, he dared not step one foot out of the Tower without seeing his duty fulfilled.

How could he bear to send Evi’a away? He hadn’t even been able to look the man in the eyes as the Tower gates swung closed that fateful day. 

“G’raha Tia…”

His ears perked, as they always did when Evi’a said his name, and tears stung at his eyes.

“I don’t know how you got in here, but you can’t …I can’t come away with you, surely you know that,” he pleaded, gasping as shining dark blue eyes finally lifted to meet his, as a hand rose to cup his freckled cheek, one thumb brushing away his tears.

The raw, unmistakable love on display in his inspiration’s eyes nearly ended him. 

“Raha, listen to me,” the Keeper worked out, voice choked with emotion. He whimpered. Sweet Azeyma, it was his name, it was his _name_ on his Warrior’s lips, and he could no sooner deny that than he could stop breathing. “You’ve done…you’ve done _everything_ you set out to do. You’ve saved our world, and the First, and…” Evi’a stopped abruptly, words stuck in his throat as he struggled for what to say.

“I don’t understand,” he breathed, trying his damnedest not to angle into the warmth of the bard’s palm. Evi’a sighed and pulled away, thought for a moment, and then a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I’m not the person to explain this to you,” the bard said softly, reaching down to unlatch the cover of a soft leather satchel at his side and lovingly remove something wrapped in crimson silk. He could only watch in mystification as the Keeper carefully unwrapped the bundle to reveal a luminous white crystal, capped at the base in a further crystalline growth of blood red. “Do you trust me?” Evi’a asked, looking up to him again with beseeching eyes.

He nodded, mouth dry.

“Implicitly.”

The Keeper’s expression lit with poorly restrained tenderness, and he slowly held out the crystal on the palms of his upturned hands.

“There’s someone here who would like to speak to you, some truths you need to hear. Will you listen?” the bard asked, and he found himself nodding even as he reached out to take the proffered treasure.

But as soon as his fingertips brushed the crystal’s warm surface, his vision faded.

He blinked to find himself suddenly standing on a black-pebbled beach, the skies feathered with clouds of iron gray, the snow-capped mountains of Ilsabard looming in the distance. He hadn’t been here in years, and that his boyhood home should come to mind now was strikingly odd.

“Greetings, my friend,” a familiar voice said, and he looked from the horizon with surprise to see…himself, older and robed as a mage, carrying a staff of burnished gold. How he knew it was himself he could not say. Of course, there was the matter of the identical appearance, but more pressingly there was a heavy sense of connection, of _likeness_ , that was far more than a mere similarity in traits. If he concentrated, he could almost picture what the figure was thinking. It was disorienting, but also strangely comforting.

“You’re me,” he said with wonder, and nodded in time with the robed figure.

“That I am,” the man said brightly, adjusting the hood draped at his shoulders.

“And…you’re going to tell me something. From the future,” he worked out slowly, trying to piece together the miqo’te’s intent without being told.

“Yes,” the figure said warmly, pebbles crunching as he traversed the space between them in sandaled feet. “Although, admittedly, it would be far more expedient if I simply showed you. May I?” he asked, and suddenly he could see from the other miqo’te’s point of view, his crystallized arm reaching out toward his younger self, as well as from his own eyes—elegant fingertips hovering an ilm away from his forehead.

He bowed his head, came into connection.

It should have knocked him from his feet, stolen his breath, stopped his heart to witness the memories that he did. Of a blighted world and a vow made, of a journey across the rift and the founding of a city at the base of the Tower, a sentinel of hope in a land near drowned by primordial Light. Of a child in his arms, and years of profound loneliness, desperate patience and hope, of painstaking work and learning to find joy in the smallest of pleasures. Of the failed summonings, and the sweet, affirming elation of finally seeing the beloved smile of his inspiration once more. The subsequent struggle, the return of night, a conversation held atop a cliff both literal and figurative, his heart so full of yearning that he nearly smothered. Victory, and a struggle turned personal as he came to terms with his own worth, and his right to return home with the soul he loved beyond all others.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stepped away, and as the connection faded he saw that his elder self was in the same state.

“I…we?…I did these things,” he murmured. And he knew it, found he’d always known it, that he’d been dreaming it all along.

“You did. I did. _We_ did,” said the miqo’te with quiet pride, his gentle smile suffusing his eyes with a serene brilliance. “Now, there lies two paths before you, and the time has come to choose.” The figure closed his eyes for a moment as though to gather his thoughts, then opened them again and nodded. “Your duty is done, and you are free to leave the Tower as you will. Only five years have passed, and you are yet in the prime of your life. The question is…will you have me, this soul that has come of yours? Will you have this future you lived, in all of its pain and isolation, struggle and victory? Or would you be set free of all that your fate brought upon you, for ill or for good, and walk these lands as a man like any other, free to pursue whatever road you might?”

He looked into his own crimson eyes, felt with a passion the tremulous fear and hope he saw there. And yet…

“Forgive me…but it seems to me, even if I accept your soul, all that I’ve become…would I not also then be free?” he asked slowly. “Didn’t…didn’t I come back here to spend my life with…with him?”

They both looked to the pebbles and blushed.

“Ah, yes,” his other self offered, ears low as he rubbed at his arms. “But you can accomplish that without my part of your soul, without these memories, I daresay.”

He stared at himself.

Was he truly this hopeless, that at the culmination of his life’s work—on the very cusp of realizing his greatest personal dream—he was still preparing to fall upon his sword? That at the end of such an incredible journey, what terrified him more than anything was to be rejected by his own soul? 

How could he hope for Evi’a to have him, if he would not have himself? And to what end his years of work toward this destiny, if in this crucial moment he denied everything, did not have the courage to grant himself happiness and freedom?

Back in the Tower, he opened one eye to look upon the anxious face of his inspiration, the man who would shortly become his dearest in every single facet of his heart.

“Give me that crystal,” he growled, his fierceness slightly softened by a crooked smile when his love started and hastened to obey.

“Are you certain?” his elder self whispered as he came back into clear view. “You cannot undo this. We will merge…you will become what I am.”

“No,” he said firmly, holding out his arms in welcome. “I will become _myself_.”

With a sob he pitched forward into his own embrace, and then there was aught but light, and the sensation as of a sprout eagerly breaking free of the mulch to face the sun’s warm rays.

He opened his tear-filled eyes, tilted his head and gazed with wonder into the questioning face of his dearly beloved.

“I dreamt you were as the sun, beckoning me to life!” he exclaimed, heart pounding with wild joy as he launched himself forward into his love’s arms. “I’m home! Oh gods, my sweet sun, you’ve brought me home!” he sobbed, burying his face against his Warrior’s night sky shoulder, delighting in the fingers that came up to tangle in his hair, the arm that wrapped firm around his waist.

Evi’a’s unfettered, jubilant laughter rang clear into his soul.

“As it turns out, I have always been—and ever will be—your sun,” the Keeper whispered fervently, pulling him in close and warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sat down with no idea what I wanted to write beyond missing scene fluff, and two hours later this is what I had! Fond as I am of the Two of Them idea, I never really expected it to happen. I am over the moon with the results of the patch, could not be happier! But I would like to think that the Exarch offered his younger self a choice. Hopefully later I can write the extremely self-indulgent fluff for my boy as a follow up to this XD
> 
> You can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens if you like!
> 
> Thank you for reading! And if you enjoyed, comments and kudos are writer fuel and always appreciated!


	2. There Will Be Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'raha and Evi'a make their way out of the Tower and back to the Rising Stones to greet their comrades and spend the first night of their new life together. As it turns out, there is much adjustment to be done, but there will be time.

Though their hearts were light with euphoria, the downstairs journey out of the Tower ended up more ponderous than Evi’a expected. More than once his Raha stumbled on the stairs with sudden bouts of dizziness, and by the time they reached the halfway point, the smaller miqo’te was visibly struggling to focus properly.

“Would it help if I just teleport us to Mor Dhona?” he asked gently, silvery ears low with concern. When the Seeker set his mouth in a line and narrowed his eyes, the bard could easily guess the nature of the impending response.

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly. “I will set foot out of these gates under my own power.” There it was, and he knew there was no arguing with that tone. And so, slowly and carefully they made their way down, hand in hand, quietly relishing the warmth between them, the simple intimacy as they snuck glances at one another.

Sweet Menphina, dreamlike as all this was Raha’s presence was real, solid and real. He had thought they would talk—they certainly had much on which to speak—but the gravity and bliss of what they’d accomplished held them to a stunned, hazy silence in which there was only one another, forever and ever.

It beggared belief. 

When his love stumbled again Evi’a did not question, only firmed his stance in support, then carried on when the Seeker indicated that he was ready. 

As the gates came into sight, both of them slowed, the added weight and anticipation of stepping through those gilded doors giving them pause to consider all of their blessings, the wide open road that lay before them. He watched with tender reverence as G’raha Tia straightened his back, lifted his chin with pride, and tugged at his hand such that they might take these final steps side by side. 

One step, and another, and another, and then they were over the threshold, eyes to the setting sun on the horizon. His heart alight with love, joy, and profound serenity, he looked to the shorter miqo’te. Tears welled in his love’s crimson eyes, the last sunlight of the day dancing across his bright red hair. When he squeezed the former caretaker’s hand in support, the smile he received in return was so brilliant, so exuberant, that he couldn’t help pulling him close with a cry of joy, and they spun round together until both of them were dizzy, tails lashing as they crashed together for a kiss that was high on passion and rather short on grace.

Suddenly Raha stiffened in his arms and pulled back, a blush rising hot enough to make his freckles blend in.

“What’s wrong?” Evi’a asked, ears pricked with alarm. Perhaps he should have tempered his enthusiasm a bit, the mage was already exhausted and suffering from vertigo—

“I…er, that is to say…I’ve been sleeping for five years, or well, this body has…and…” He watched with bemusement and concern as his love fidgeted, ears flicking. “I haven’t washed in all that time,” he finished in a small voice.

Evi’a stared, then burst into laughter.

_ “That’s _ what you’re worried about?” he asked incredulously as the mage scrunched his eyes at him and looked away, sulking as he had when he was a far younger man. Which, he was again, technically, but…?

“Well, it’s true,” he huffed, and Evi’a grinned, pulled him in gently for another embrace.

“Raha, I’d kiss you right now even if you’d been sleeping on a dead morbol,” he said solemnly, and the Seeker snorted.

“Thankfully that is not the case!” he answered with a fluff of his tail, then gasped and sagged with another round of lightheadedness.

“How are you feeling?” Evi’a asked, carding fingers through his hair as he recovered.

“A bit aethersick, if I must admit, but I’m sure it will pass…I’d thought to perhaps ride back with you on Eorlingas, but that teleport is sounding more attractive by the moment,” he finished hopefully.

And so it was that they came to the Mor Dhona aetheryte plaza, hand in hand just as twilight set in, a cool wind rolling off the blighted plains. His heart giddy with excitement at the prospect of finally, finally bringing his love to his home away from home, Evi’a practically threw open the door of the Seventh Heaven, and would have passed right through into the Rising Stones but for the sudden balking in Raha’s steps. Once again he reminded himself that patience was in order. No matter how much the Seeker might have prepared himself for this trip and how joyous the occasion, there would certainly be a lot to take in over the coming days. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, giving the Wandering Minstrel an absent nod in greeting. 

“I...you’re certain they’re all well?” the mage asked in a low voice, tail stiff behind him as he studied the floor off to the side. 

“Yes, all hale and whole, though they’ll need to rest for a while,” he reassured. His love gave a bare nod, then lifted his chin and gave a smile just a touch strained around the edges.

“Well then, I must needs give them my regards,” he declared, squaring his shoulders. The Keeper tried to keep his dismay from showing--he’d seen that same play of expressions before on Alphinaud’s face as they returned to the Stones all those years ago, when the elezen had it in mind to own up to his transgressions and disband the Crystal Braves. That Raha felt he was walking into a similar emotional situation broke his heart. For all the time that they’d spent together on the First, for all the Scions had endeavored to show their friendship and goodwill, that his love should yet struggle with guilt over the failed summonings… 

Well, at least they were here, together, and hopefully the Seeker would understand soon enough just how much the Scions cared for him. 

With a smile and a gentle squeeze to his dear one’s hand, he pulled open the worn old door to the Rising Stones and led the Seeker inside. And then there was no room for being shy, not with Tataru’s cry of elated surprise, nor the way the teapot slipped from Krile’s limp fingers and shattered onto the stone flooring when she beheld her long-lost friend hovering in the doorway. 

“Raha…” she breathed, just as the Seeker gasped,

“Oh, let me,” even as he rushed to help, but as he knelt to the floor vertigo took him, and he nearly pitched forward onto his face. She caught the Seeker with a cry, and then they both laughed and fell into an embrace so fierce the little mage’s hood fell back, tears streaming down their cheeks.

“You fool man, you dear, dear fool, I’m so proud of you,” she cried, aiming a sharp swat at the back of his head. 

“Ow, what--?” the mage exclaimed, nonplussed. 

“That’s for disappearing off into the Tower without so much as a word to anyone!” she scolded, grinning through tears as she pulled back to look him over. “You owe me more sweets than you’ll ever afford in your life!” The Seeker’s mouth worked for a moment before managing a chagrined smile.

“Then I shall endeavor to begin repaying my bottomless debt as soon as possible,” he promised, then laughed as she pulled him in again. “It’s good to see you, Krile.”

His heart ached with happiness to see them reunited, their faces buried in one another’s shoulders as they wept. It felt like a private moment, but he couldn’t shake the sensation that if he parted from his love, the magic spell might end and he’d wake up back on the First. He knew he was being foolish, but couldn’t work up the courage to leave. Instead he compromised and busied himself off to the side with Tataru, quietly sweeping up shards of teapot and brewing another round of Gridanian chestnut tea.

He looked up at the sound of a door creaking open, and there stood Alisaie in her nightclothes, hair mussed and eyes wide.

“You made it,” she whispered, and the mage stood awkwardly, ears twitching as he swiped at his tears.

“I did,” he nodded, hands fisted at his sides, “but more importantly, you-” He gave an ‘oof’ of surprise as the elezen barreled into him and caught him up in a back-breaking hug. Evi’a could only shrug with a smile when his love looked to him open-mouthed for guidance. To the Seeker’s credit he recovered quickly and held her in return with minimal awkwardness, insisting that he was well. Evi’a did not miss the color in the smaller miqo’te’s cheeks or the humbled tenderness in his eyes, knew that the mage hadn’t understood in truth until this moment that Alisaie’s oft sharp words back on the First had hidden how much she cared. Privately, Evi’a suspected that she’d come to look to him as a (somewhat hopeless) surrogate grandfather. 

“I thought you must have arrived,” Alphinaud said warmly as he emerged. “Welcome home, Exarch...Although I suppose we shouldn’t call you that any longer, G’raha Tia.”

“Ah, either is fine,” his love answered with a flustered nod, abashed ears swept back as Alisaie stepped aside. “How has the transfer found you, is all well?”

“I daresay all of our aetherial and earthly bits are attached in the correct places,” Y’shtola acknowledged with a wry smile as she arrived to join them, Thancred and Urianger trailing behind her. “What you and Beq Lugg have accomplished is nothing short of a miracle, well done.” The Seeker’s cheeks colored even further under the praise, tail lashing behind him as he clasped his hands at his waist.

“It’s...it’s the least I could do, considering it’s my f-”

“Are you really going to go on about that? Now?” Thancred chided from where he leaned in the doorway. “Have you not just realized your dreams? Gods’ sake, stop thinking about others for a moment and celebrate!”

“Ah, well, of course I’m quite happy, but I—”

“‘Tis clear thine soul hath returned, yet thine heart is uncertain of thy place. Pray take assurance that thine presence will ever be welcomed within these halls,” Urianger said with a smile, and even went so far as to clasp the former caretaker’s shoulder.

Sweet Menphina, how the Keeper’s heart swelled to see how much his adopted family cared for his love, their welcoming smiles as they congratulated him and offered thanks overwhelming the Seeker once more into helpless, stammering expressions of joy. At length, Krile must have noted that her old friend was possibly reaching well beyond his limits just to stay upright, and began shooing everyone back into bed. While they were distracted with grumbling and getting re-settled, he sidled back up to his dear one and took his hand, gave a supportive squeeze when he found the smaller miqo’te was trembling.

“Why don’t you run along to your room, then? I can see to him there,” Krile said over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow pointedly at Evi’a.

He didn’t need to be told twice, and after bidding goodnights that were possibly too hurried to be polite, he tugged his love’s hand and led him down the short, dimmed hallway to his own quarters.

No sooner had the door clicked shut behind them than Raha made a low noise in his throat, then turned and sought the comfort of his inspiration’s arms.

“I have you, I have you,” he murmured, soothing back the Seeker’s soft ears as tears leaked against his shoulder. 

“I know, I just...It’s difficult to believe that...” The mage hummed against him, nuzzled hard at his shoulder. The Keeper’s lips parted around a breath as he realized that for the first time he could feel the tattoo of his love’s rabbiting heart against his chest—a simple affirmation of life long claimed ransom by the Tower.

But no more. 

“Aye,” Evi’a said, collecting him closer, blinking back his own tears. “I daresay I know what you mean.”

They remained there for a long while, his back pressed against cool stone, his Raha warm and firm against him, tail swishing as he calmed by degrees. 

Presently there was a knock at the door, and the Seeker pulled away a bit as they admitted Krile into the room. She smiled gently to see her old comrade’s tear-stained face.

“How are you doing?” she asked quietly, striding past and motioning Raha to sit on the bed. The former caretaker grinned and gave a watery, genuine peal of laughter.

“I am  _ incredible _ . Never better,” the Seeker declared, scrubbing at his face as he made his way over to the bed.

“Full glad am I to hear it. Now, let’s have a look at you,” she murmured. 

Evi’a watched as Krile, already pale from her efforts over the previous weeks, began her painstaking investigation into his love’s aetherial state. It made him anxious for the both of them, and after a moment of shifting on his feet, he turned for the washroom to start a hot bath running and set out some pajamas. Once that was accomplished, he forced himself to remain there and lean against the wall to wait, appreciating that Krile preferred not to have an audience while she worked. 

“There’s some instability,” she announced when at last her inspection was complete, “but nothing that I can’t heal within a few sessions.”

“Ah, that’s wonderful to hear. My thanks, old friend, truly,” the Seeker said earnestly, which earned him a pleased glance of surprise from the lala. 

“...I suppose that means I shouldn’t bring him home tonight,” Evi’a ventured, and she nodded.

“I’ll thank you to remain here if you please, at least for the first night. Probably best to keep this one close, just in case,” she said, patting Raha’s knee with a smile.

“Oh, I’ll keep him close alright,” the Keeper grinned, and they both laughed at the sound his love made, the way his ears flicked as he blushed and looked to the side with a crooked smile. 

“None of  _ that _ either, it’s very important that you both rest and give your aether time to settle,” she said with scrunched eyes and a smirk, and he ducked his head with a blush of his own as Raha squawked “Krile!”. She giggled to herself and nodded to both of them. “Now, have a bath and get ready for bed. I’ll send along some tea and refreshments later,” she smiled, and after issuing a few more instructions and wishing her goodnights, she left them to their own devices.

“She’s not changed much,” the Seeker groused fondly, looking to Evi’a with a shy smile. “Says what she will and expects her orders to be obeyed.” 

“She and Tataru are certainly quite the team,” he sighed, “though frankly without them who knows where the Scions would be. Now, are you ready for that bath?” he asked.

“Azeyma,  _ yes _ ,” the smaller miqo’te said emphatically.

They sat down side by side on the bed to tug off their boots, but as Evi’a discarded his to the side his love winced and sat up with a deep breath--only a few of the back clasps undone. 

“Let me help you?” the Keeper asked, and at a nod of permission he knelt down in front of the mage and quickly worked off his love’s boots and socks. “Forgot about this leopard print,” he teased as he set the footwear aside, and the Seeker’s lips pursed. 

“Oh hush, I thought it made me look fierce,” he pouted, then smiled. “It was rather silly, in retrospect,“ he acknowledged, then hissed and raised a hand to his forehead. 

“Still feeling dizzy?” Evi’a asked, scooting between the smaller miqo’te’s knees and reaching up to cup his cheek. 

“Mm,” the Seeker said, opening his crimson eyes just enough to gaze down through his eyelashes...and Evi’a swallowed at the defiant, open desire reflected there. “Help me out of these trousers?” he asked innocently enough, and the bard gave a chuff of laughter as he moved to untie the laces at the mage’s waist. 

“Remember, Krile said you’re to rest,” he chided with amusement as his love lifted his hips for him to tug down the offending garments. “And anyway, we’re both like to fall asleep in the middle of things,” he noted as he shimmied both trousers and smallclothes off and put them to the side as well. 

“Yes, and it’s a profound waste of a first night together,” Raha sighed. “I had not anticipated the transfer would weary me so.”

“There will be time,” Evi’a answered, an affectionate smile quirking his lips as he ran his fingers over the familiar constellations of freckles on his love’s thighs. How he wished to bring his lips down to kiss them, to make this beautiful miqo’te sing for him...but no. Still, he watched shamelessly as the mage tugged free of his armguards and worked off his fitted vest, marveling at his love’s lithe muscles and the alluring dip of collarbones previously hidden beneath crystal. 

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and the Seeker gave a self-conscious laugh, ears sweeping back.

“I confess,” he said, ducking his head, “I had wondered what you might...I mean, it’s been a while since you’ve seen...I just thought it might be disconcerting to see me like this, after all this time,” the Seeker fumbled, rubbing at one arm. 

“You’re glorious,” Evi’a murmured, rising up on his knees to rest a hand at the nape of his love’s neck and press a kiss to those sweet, full lips. “You’re you, and whatever might have come of your body, whatever yet may come, I will always, always love you. I will never stop wanting you.” His dear one made a low noise, which he answered in kind when strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

They kissed for a while, languid and slow, tails shifting idly behind them. When the Seeker’s hands wandered up and began smoothing his silvery ears, he groaned and pulled away, lights popping before his eyes as lust battled with exhaustion and practicality. 

“C’mon, we...we should get that bath,” he protested weakly, pushing himself up. 

“Oh, I’ll clean you up,” the mage purred, peering up at him through narrowed eyes.

“Stop that,” he scolded, reaching out to help his love stand. “Krile said we need to rest, and it’s not worth risking your health for this.” 

“Oh, very well,” his Raha huffed with mock exasperation as he rose. Evi’a steadied him through another bout of vertigo, then led the way to the washroom. 

Even tired as the bard was, the moan of contentment the Seeker gave as he sank down into the Glade bath made heat pool low in his stomach. 

“Come join me?” the mage murmured, and Evi’a certainly wasn’t going to deny him. After making sure the soap and shampoo were within reach, he carefully settled in behind his love and wrapped his arms tight around the smaller miqo’te’s broad shoulders. “I thought you said none of that?” his Raha asked impishly, wiggling backwards against his obvious attraction. 

“I did,” Evi’a sighed, “and I still mean it, but sweet Menphina, you make it hard.” He groaned as soon as he realized what he’d said, and knew he deserved the chuff of laughter he received in reply. The Seeker lolled his head back against his shoulder, regarded him with amusement and something much darker dancing in his crimson eyes.

“I should very much like to have you in this bath at some point,” the former caretaker murmured matter-of-factly, and it was Evi’a’s turn to raise his eyebrows and laugh. His love  _ was  _ tired. 

“You will,” he promised. “Now, lean forward a bit so I can get started.” The Seeker gave him a sweet smile and a bunt under the chin, then did as he was told with a purr. 

As much as the Keeper wanted to take his time running his hands over that strong, freckled back and working his fingers through soft red locks, both of them were aching with exhaustion, and the Seeker fell asleep midway through the sweet luxury of having his hair washed. Struggling not to nod off himself, Evi’a finished both of their ablutions quickly and gently roused his sleepy love. Together they stumbled through toweling off, occasionally pausing for a clumsy kiss. 

“I dun have ‘ny night...nightclothes,” his Raha slurred around a yawn as they returned to the chambers proper. 

“Here, I set you out some of mine. They’re big but they’ll do,” the Keeper offered, and had enough presence of mind that his heart clenched to see his love’s sleepily enthused pleasure upon donning his inspiration’s clothes. 

“C’mon you,” he murmured as he got into bed and held out his arms. His love joined him in a heartbeat, pressed close with a chuff of joy as the Keeper pulled the blankets snug over the both of them. The mage was asleep before the lights fully dimmed, head tucked neatly under the Keeper’s chin. Evi’a sighed, nuzzled at the soft fur of G’raha Tia’s ears, let the gentle rise and fall of his dear one’s chest lull him into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.

What use for dreams, after all, with such a blessed waking life. 

G’raha Tia blinked into the inky darkness as he woke, and for a brief, panicked moment, struggled to recall where he was. Then a snore sounded softly at the tips of his ears, and elysian reality came flooding back to him as he registered his love’s heartbeat against his forehead, the arm still flung protectively over his waist. 

He lay quietly, determined to note every detail of this moment in his heart, that he might remember it forever...his first night with his love at the end of one life and the beginning of another. He could smell the ginger of the shampoo in their yet slightly damp hair, the soft scent of sunlight on warm wood that he associated with the Keeper. Even in summer the night air of Mor Dhona was cool, and made the warmth of his inspiration against him even more precious. The room was quiet save the sounds of their breathing...and, he winced, the rumbling of his stomach.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so parched and famished, and thinking back they’d both been in such a stupor upon their return that they had not taken advantage of the tea, nor the refreshments provided by Krile. On the First the energies of the Tower often dulled his hunger, but that interference was no more...and he was glad of it, even as his stomach gave another insistent rumble. 

As much as he wished he might stay in bed and never leave, it would not do to wake in the morning to a dehydration headache and probably a sharp scolding from Krile. As gingerly as he could manage, he shifted back until he could gently break free of the Keeper’s arm without waking the man, then carefully sat up and eased his bare feet to the floor. The shock of cold against his soles was refreshing, the sensation more vivid and complete than he was used to...perhaps the Tower had siphoned away his physical senses so gradually, he had not realized. A glance back at his love found the bard still sleeping peacefully, and his heart ached with love at the sight. 

There would always be more battles, but for now, it was so  _ good _ to be done with everything. Perhaps it was complacent or naive to think, but after what they’d been through, he felt he was capable of anything, so long as they were in one another’s lives. 

He closed his eyes against a bout of lightheadedness as he stood, then chanced another pensive glance back toward the bed before making his way toward the small table near the window as his eyes grew accustomed to the dark. 

In what capacity, he wondered, would he continue to be a part of Evi’a’s life? That they loved one another, there was no question. But on the First, as caretaker of the Tower, he had been...useful, both in his aetherial capabilities and in his well-rounded knowledge of the land. Bound though he still was to the Tower, to use it to the same effect was out of the question--it would have to be sealed as soon as he was well enough to manage it. And what then? He enjoyed shooting longside Evi’a, but it was not advantageous for both of them to be bards. It would have to be magic, he supposed, which meant he was going to have to learn how to manage aether after a normal fashion. 

_ Not that there’s any shortage of magic-users by his side _ , he thought to himself with a sigh as he passed on the cold tea and poured himself a cup of water. It was sweet and clear, bright and refreshing as he drank...and once more, he frowned at the realization of what the Tower had previously blunted. But that was done, and no use agonizing over it now. A nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of his mouth to see the plate of finger sandwiches and cookies Krile had left them. He didn’t want to chance pulling out the chair lest the noise wake Evi’a, so he took up the dishes and settled himself on the floor. 

It was lovely to let his sleepy mind go blank for a bit and partake of Krile’s simple fare once more, to be reminded of his days at Val, to know that he was cared for and missed as the man that he was, not just as the caretaker of the Tower. Her sandwiches were lopsided and heavy on the mayo as usual, but he ate them with relish before moving on to the cookies. Tataru’s oat and coconut, if he wasn’t mistaken—Evi’a had brought him some once, and they were as delightful as he remembered. 

Tears stung at his eyes and he blinked them away, too tired to bother with considering the reason for their sudden appearance. Most likely his tears would be quite near the surface in the days to come, for joy and grief and everything in between. But mostly joy.

When next his hand reached for cookies there was aught but an empty plate, and he frowned to realize that he’d eaten them all…and he was still hungry. And what if Evi’a had been looking forward to them in the morning? Perhaps there would be more in the kitchen, he thought to himself as he carefully rose from the floor, empty dishes in hand. He started for the door, stopped again.

He didn’t know where the kitchen was, and furthermore, this was not his home to take what he would, and he had not a gil to his name to pay for his expenses. At a loss, he stared at the crockery in his hands. He’d never considered as to exactly what he would  _ do _ if he succeeded beyond adventure next to Evi’a. The plan had been so risky, he had not dared to hope for anything beyond a completed transferral. In retrospect that was foolish, but in time these struggles would right themselves, as they always did. Though he hadn’t quite considered the implications, he’d always meant to start over if he managed to return. The key was to not make a burden of himself, as much as possible.

“Raha?” a voice called groggily behind him, and he very nearly dropped his cargo. “Are you okay?”

Sheepishly he turned to face his love, ears low and tail flicking. 

“I’m fine. Just...just a bit hungry.” 

“I think Krile brought some...oh,” the Keeper murmured, eyeing the empty dishes. 

“Oh, I’m sorry Evi’a, I wasn’t paying attention and then…” he trailed off with embarrassment. The Keeper smiled as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. 

“S’alright,” the bard said, fighting back a yawn. “I’m hungry too, we never had dinner. C’mon, let’s see if there’s anything worth having in the larder.” 

“Well, if you’re sure...I hate to take the Scions’ food,” he said anxiously, allowing the Keeper to take the plates. His love gave a chuff, leaned over to nuzzle at his ears--and just like that, the worry in his heart melted away. 

Come what may, the Keeper would be by his side, and that was more than enough comfort. 

“If they don’t write their name on it, it’s community property,” Evi’a shrugged as they emerged into the dim hallway. “You’d best write your name on your snacks too, or the others will eat them. Especially Alisaie and Urianger. And anyway, you cooked for us plenty on the First; you’re more than welcome to whatever fare we have. Come on, kitchen’s this way.” 

He followed quietly, his heart giving a funny little tumble as he looked up to the bard’s sleepy face. For nearly a century it had been he who welcomed new arrivals to the Crystarium, he who gave the tours when he needed to get out of the Tower for a spell. When Evi’a had come to the First, it had eased his nerves immensely that he had the Crystarium introduction routine down pat. And how often had he led Evi’a about the Tower, through portals, hallways and abandoned chambers? 

To allow himself to be led by another as a guest was a warm and humbling experience that he’d long since forgotten. That he was welcome here in the first place was nearly beyond belief, and his heart twinged with abashed happiness to think on how well he’d been received by the Scions the previous night. 

“Alright then, let’s see what we’ve got here,” the Keeper said, setting the dishes on the counter and pushing open the doors to the pantry. “Hmm...cheese, yes, rolanberries, yes, lemon cookies, yes please, dried tuna, yes, disgusting Sharlayan bread no, but these basil rolls look good…” Evi’a rattled off as he passed food backwards into the smaller miqo’te’s arms. 

“Er...are you certain we need all this?” he ventured, awkwardly balancing the proffered fare in his arms. The Keeper looked back, raising his eyebrows when he saw how much he’d chosen. 

“I reckon this will do for a start,” the bard mused, then padded over to help with setting out the snacks and a pitcher of fresh water on the small cooks’ table in the corner of the kitchen. 

“I shall have to find some manner of procuring replacements tomorrow--you hardly would have eaten all this by yourself,” he murmured, and Evi’a halted in the middle of scraping his chair back. 

“Raha...it’s fine. You know...I mean, you do realize that you’re more than just a guest here?” the Keeper asked, leveling a serious gaze his way. 

“I...of course I’m a guest,” he protested, fidgeting with his fingers before he could stop himself. “You can’t...they don’t mean me to  _ stay _ here.” Evi’a stared at him for a moment before quietly closing the space between them to pull him in for a gentle hug. He sighed.

“Evi’a, my dearest one, I know you love me,” he reassured, moving to return the embrace. “I know you want me near...and I...I wish to be beside you, ever and always. My heart is filled with near to nothing else. But I cannot in good conscience take advantage of the Scions’ kindness, and given that I must relearn a good many of my proficiencies, I’m of little use to them as I am. I did not come here expecting to be taken care of,” he murmured, nuzzling at his love’s chest. “I must find some means of earning my keep.”

This time it was the Keeper who sighed, and a hand came up to give his ears such a firm smooth that he went weak at the knees. 

“Raha…” Evi’a began, then thought better of what he meant to say, nuzzled at his ears instead. “Raha, Raha...my G’raha Tia.”

He purred and pressed himself closer, he couldn’t help it, and the Keeper’s rich laugh of delight made his heart flutter. 

“You have a place here beyond your connection with me, and you will see it, soon enough,” the Keeper murmured against his ears, tightening his embrace. Once more he found himself blinking back tears, but his wobbling smile was heartfelt. 

“Mm,” he managed, sleepily pressing his cheek to the comforting thrum of his inspiration’s heartbeat. 

_Be easy, G’raha Tia...you have time. There will be time,_ his heart whispered, and he let go a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raha is probably going to need a little more convincing to understand that he's welcome--he can be very stubborn. Thankfully, that reassurance should come in short order :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading! And if you enjoyed, comments and kudos are writer fuel <3
> 
> You can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens if you like!


	3. Accepting Gifts, and the Struggle Therein

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'raha Tia finds himself a lot more welcome at the Rising Stones than he thought, and doesn't quite know what to do about it...but he wants to learn.

When next they woke it was midday, and though Evi’a did not much mind heading to the dining room in his pajamas to join the others for lunch, the Seeker was so flustered at the thought that he relented and they both got dressed. This was less embarrassing for his love, if only by a few degrees. While Evi’a was utterly charmed to lend Raha his tunic and watch the mage blush as he rolled up sleeves several times too big for him, he also cursed himself internally for his thoughtlessness. For all the planning and scheming he’d done for preparations should Raha make the transferral, he’d not thought much on the more practical things that his love would need. 

Everyday clothes, for one. They were going to have to go shopping—preferably today if the Seeker felt up to it. 

If he were totally honest with himself, he thought as they made their way down the hall, he _had_ considered about the more domestic touches, and did have a few things ready at his home in the Lavender Beds, but his heart could only take so much agonizing hope, only so many tokens of a longed for future that might fail. Now that all had gone well, he was ready to procure anything and everything his love needed. Whether he was allowed to do so or not presented another challenge altogether.

He pointedly nudged the mage in the side as they entered the dining room to find the Scions present in various stages of repast or study—and Y’shtola, Alisaie, and Urianger still in their night clothes. He was unsurprised—it was a common enough occurrence, and everyone was tired. The Seeker’s eyes widened, and his gaze turned inward a bit with a soft smile before he wished his good mornings. His companions were wise enough not to comment on Raha’s overlarge garments, for which Evi’a was profoundly grateful...he could tell his love was already feeling self-conscious, and that he’d hinted at being a burden the night previous was heartbreaking. 

“Let’s see,” Krile mused from the other end of the table as they sat, “we’ve got the smoked salmon sandwiches, cream stew, and sauteed vegetables left, any preference?” 

“Pass the sandwiches, would you?” Evi’a asked, reaching out to stop the platter as Thancred slid it his way instead. “Would you care for some of these?” he asked the Seeker, and received a vague smile and a shrug in reply. 

“Anything would be appreciated,” he said simply, then shifted when the bard scrunched his eyes. “Actually, I’d like the sandwiches too, if...if there’s enough for both of us,” he amended in a smaller voice. 

“Sure, happy to share,” he said amiably. “I’ll have some of the vegetables too, then.”

“I’ll go make some more sandwiches real quick, wouldn’t want you two going hungry after all you’ve been through,” Tataru said brightly, hopping up from her seat. 

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” Raha said, tail flicking behind him. “I’m sure this is plenty.”

“It’s fine,” she said, waving a hand as she left. “I need to put on more tea anyway.” The mage did not look convinced, but kept his silence with a troubled expression. 

“So, what plans do you have once the two of you have convalesced?” Alphinaud asked a bit later as they tucked into their food. “I was thinking to call upon the Fortemps family and catch up on the news in Ishgard, perhaps tour the restoration site. It’s been so long since we’ve seen them, and I wondered if you and G’raha Tia might wish to join me.” 

“Eugh, Ishgard is cold and miserable and full of bitter zealots. Don’t you have anything pleasant to suggest?” Alisaie muttered over her tea and biscuits. 

“Th-that’s hardly fair,” Alphinaud protested. “We always have a lovely reception at the Fortemps Manor, and I daresay it would lift the spirits to see the progress the citizens have made in their rebuilding efforts.” 

“I like Ishgard,” Evi’a offered, and Alisaie raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I do! Perhaps not the religious zealots bit, but I’d like to visit Count Fortemps, and Aymeric as well...might be good to see the dragons too, eh?” he asked, turning to Raha expectantly--only to find him staring off into space as he nibbled at the same sandwich he’d been eating several minutes ago. 

“What? Forgive me,” the Seeker said, ears flicking as he came back to himself. “I fear I wasn’t following the conversation.”

“Was just wondering if you’d be up for a trip to Foundation, and maybe range out to see the dragons at Anyx Trine while we’re at it,” he offered, grinning at how his love’s ears perked right up. 

“Dragons!” he exclaimed, then ducked his head at his own enthusiasm. “Er, yes, I should very much like to speak with the dragons, should the opportunity present itself.” 

“Oh, it will,” Evi’a promised, “and sooner rather than later.”

“It’s summer, does no one want to go to the beach like normal people?” Alisaie groused, flopping back in her seat.

“Oooh, I’d love a trip to Costa,” Tataru piped up. “It’s been ever so long since I’ve had an excuse for a vacation. I wonder if the cottage rentals are booked up…”

“I’d go to the beach,” Thancred mused. “It’s been a while, would be nice to see if I’m still as charming as I used to be. Strictly for research purposes, I’m a changed man, after all,” he added, and every woman present snorted. 

“I didn’t rule out the beach! That would be lovely, once we’re all up to it,” Evi’a said, and smiled when Alisaie visibly cheered. 

“The question is, are you and prince charming over there going to steal my thunder or serve as bait?” Thancred asked with mock consideration, and Evi’a shrugged. 

“I do have a nicer arse than you, and these fine fluffy ears,” he said, flicking them with a demonstrative flourish. “But I will also be very distracted, so I daresay you’ll come out ahead...though I suppose that shouldn’t matter to you, seeing as you’re a changed man,” he toasted with his tea, looking to Raha for his reaction to the conversation...only to find him once more staring introspectively inward. 

_Well, fair enough_ , he thought, resting a supportive hand on his love’s knee as he took in the mage’s start of surprise and quiet expression of acknowledgement. They were all still recovering, and there was much on which to think and adjust. 

And so they carried on with negotiating and planning their eventual Scion beach trip, which even Alphinaud and Urianger seemed enthused about, to his surprise. But the Faire was on, after all, and the fireworks were beautiful and the food always good. Every once in a while the Seeker would emerge out of his reverie, look around the room with something like wonder as his ears flicked toward the ongoing conversations in turn. Then by degrees he would sink back into thought. 

“Perhaps a nap is in order,” Krile spoke up at length, her concerned eyes narrowing at her old friend. Raha blinked, looked to her with surprise that he was being addressed.

“Oh no, I’m well,” he insisted, ears canting back with embarrassment. “Forgive me my poor manners...I fear my silence is a leftover unsavory habit from having perhaps too much time to myself. If anything, I should like to get out for a bit,” he said, giving Evi’a the faintest nudge with his elbow. He understood the gesture for what it was--his love needed some quiet time, either in solitude with or just the two of them, to sort himself. 

“Well then, let’s go out. It’s a beautiful day, after all, and we’ve time at the moment,” Evi’a said cheerfully. Probably they were being quite transparent, but he didn’t think anyone would fault them...although Krile did raise a warning eyebrow in his direction. 

“If you’re going to go out, you’ll be wanting something to wear, I imagine,” Tataru exclaimed, clapping her hands together with an eager smile. 

Evi’a’s heart leapt. _Oh, are we doing this now?_ he thought to himself, sitting up a little straighter. He wondered about the timing, but then, it could never be too soon for his love to understand that his presence was welcome and valued. 

“I...ah...I’ll be seeing to that as soon as possible,” a flustered Raha was saying at his side, cheeks nearly as red as his hair as he self-consciously pushed up his drooping sleeves.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to tease,” Tataru said apologetically. “But we thought for some time that you might be coming, so of course preparations were made.”

“Preparations?” Raha asked, ears wavering as though he didn’t know whether to perk or pin. But the Scion accountant was already scurrying to procure her quarry from under the bar counter. 

_She must have been waiting for an opening all this time_ , he thought to himself fondly. 

“R-really, you needn’t put yourselves out on my account, I—” the mage protested, hands fidgeting in his lap.

“Come now Raha, friendships work both ways,” Krile spoke up crisply. “Receiving gifts with grace is both a virtue and a kindness.”

The Seeker’s lips parted around a soft intake of breath, and Evi’a reached out to squeeze his love’s hands as Tataru carefully placed a package wrapped in simple brown paper and gold string on the table before them. His Raha looked to him with wide eyes, and he nodded, gave another squeeze before pulling away.

“Go on, that’s for you,” he murmured, inclining his head toward the parcel. He did not miss how the Seeker’s hands trembled as he reached for the strings, nor the stiffness of his tail. 

“Oh my,” the mage whispered as the wrapping fell away to reveal a handsome, tailor made traveling ensemble. Evi’a gave a whistle of appreciation as his love held up the gift—Tataru had really outdone herself this time. It looked to be the perfect size, clearly based on his Exarch robes, and just the right blend of stylish charm and practicality for the road. 

“I do hope it’s to your liking,” Tataru said anxiously, wringing her hands as the smaller miqo’te stared at the offering. “It’s a gift from all of us, we all contributed bits and pieces...Y’shtola, Ryne, Krile, and Evi’a embroidered the tunic, while Thancred procured the leather and Urianger the fae silver. I...I did my best to put everything together into a complementary set, with some insight from a certain dear little pixie who assured me the design would be well-suited.”

“It’s wonderful,” the Seeker breathed, swallowing audibly. 

“Oh thank the gods,” Tataru said, puffing out a sigh of relief. “Here, let me get the rest of it.”

“The rest of it?” Raha asked faintly. 

“Of course! I can’t lay claim to the accessories—catch!” she called, tossing a smaller package Evi’a’s way with a surprisingly powerful throw. Luckily he was paying attention and managed not to embarrass himself, smiling as he laid his own gift in front of his love.

“I made these,” he said, ducking his head. “I’m by no means a master goldsmith, but I hope you like them.”

“...But I did have these shoes made for you. I know they’re not the most attractive,” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to place an awkwardly large pair of boots on the table, “but the design has been lauded as long-lasting, comfortable, and practical for any terrain. Hopefully they’ll serve you well for whatever you and Evi’a get up to in the future.” 

“I...th-that’s very thoughtful…” the former caretaker said hoarsely, eyes darting between the unexpected gifts with wonder—and a touch of overwhelmed panic, Evi’a’s heart clenched to see. Perhaps the timing left something to be desired after all. In any case, probably a good idea to give him a little time to recover before Tataru produced the staff as well. 

“Come on then, let’s go try these on,” he said with a smile of encouragement, standing as he took his love’s hand and retrieved his own offering and the cumbersome boots with the other. (Practical though Tataru’s gift might be, he was going to see about having a handsome pair of sandals commissioned. Soon.) 

“Of course,” the Seeker said dazedly as he stood and allowed himself to be steered out of the dining room toward their quarters. 

“Be back in a bit,” Evi’a called over his shoulder, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile to the Scions’ varied expressions of concern.

As their chamber door clicked shut behind them, the Seeker continued on to the bed and sat down heavily, new garments spread over his lap. Uncertain of what to say, Evi’a elected to deposit his cargo on the bed and sit down beside the smaller miqo’te in silence, give him some time to think. He watched as his love ran reverent fingers over the cloth, pensive crimson eyes wandering from detail to detail. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” the Seeker finally said blankly. “My thoughts are so muddled today, perhaps it’s a belated reaction to the merge. Or perhaps not. I’m embarrassed to admit, I didn’t think this through. Returning to the Source.” Evi’a frowned and scooted closer, flicking his tail to rest against his love’s backside. 

“Let’s start simple then,” he said gently. “Why did you want to come back here?”

“To be with you, of course,” the Seeker answered, his shoulders relaxing by degrees as he flicked his tail in turn over the bard’s. “To adventure together, to cross the oceans and take to the skies on eternal winds. It sounds like a child’s dream, but here I am an old man and that hope has lived on, unchanged since the days of my youth,” he murmured, leaning over to rest his head on Evi’a’s shoulder.

“You’re with me. Raha, we’re going to adventure together,” he murmured, taking one of his love’s hands as he turned to nuzzle at a warm ear. “Now, what else do you want?”

“I don’t want anything else,” the mage said softly, but the tremulous quality of words held back was clear.

“Come on, it’s fine. What do you want?” Evi’a asked quietly against soft red fur. There was a long, comfortable silence as his love thought.

“I want to learn to accept being wanted, to be able to appreciate gifts with a free and thankful heart. I’ve never been particularly skilled at either,” the Seeker said at length, his voice low with longing. “And this is in part because I have ever had my destiny and purpose before me, the fulfilment of which cast all distractions by the wayside. Bereft of the parameters of that fate, I am not entirely certain of the nature of this man I am newly become,” he murmured, resting a hand over his recovered heartbeat. “I have yet to understand what I expect of myself, which renders it difficult to fathom how I might meet the expectations of others...and I would so loathe to become a burden and a disappointment to those I most admire,” the Seeker trailed off, closing his eyes against silent tears. 

“Oh Raha,” Evi’a murmured, turning to pull his love into a hug, heart aching as the smaller miqo’te bunted up under his chin to comfort them both. He’d expected his dear one’s fears to be along these lines, but to hear them stated so eloquently in person brought him to the realization that he did not know what steps he might take to help make this better, save to be present and lovingly demonstrate his support. 

“This is a personal failing that I am going to have to rectify on my own,” the mage said quietly, perhaps sensing his thoughts. “But please be assured that I am quite grateful for your love...and for the friendship of the Scions.” 

“Raha, you haven’t even been here for a full day yet. No one expects you to know your path--I suspect we’re all still finding ours. You’ve just always had yours laid out before you. Perhaps now, it’s time to journey forward beside others?” he ventured, uncertain if he was getting his meaning across properly. 

“Mm. I’m just not used to group endeavors, my work ever placing me to the side as it has...even most recently, in the research necessary to return to the Source. I can only pray you have patience with me,” the Seeker murmured, snuggling closer. 

“Of course I can be patient. And I hope you know, they’re giving you things because they’re fond of you,” he whispered against a half drooped red ear. 

“Yes, I...I’m beginning to see that,” his Raha whispered back. There was another lull, in which Evi’a nuzzled at his love’s soft fur as he considered. 

“Do you remember, when you first told me you meant to pursue this plan, and I told you that I would have you by my side wherever I roamed, and to share a home in times of peace? And you accepted? ” 

“Of course, how could I forget, when I have never wanted anything more than to share in your life?” Evi’a pulled him closer, pressed a firm kiss to his temple. 

“This is a time of peace. This is one of my homes, and the people residing under this roof are my family. I would share them with you, if you will have them of me,” he said, earnestly meeting wide crimson eyes with his own. His love’s mouth opened and closed, struggling for words as his tail lashed behind him. 

“I…well, put that way, I…” the Seeker faltered, then shook his head with a rueful chuff before rising up gracefully to kiss him, humming against his mouth. “You must think yourself quite smooth,” the mage murmured, pulling away for a moment to curl his fingers against the bard’s ears. Evi’a shifted as thumbs began to brush back and forth over the silvered tips of his fur, but willed himself not to be distracted.

“Did it work?” he asked seriously. “If you can’t see your way to accepting their feelings in their own right, let their love pass through me first and on to you. You shall still have it, either way.”

“Hmm, it would have been more romantic if you did not taste of salmon and mustard, I must admit,” his love said, studying him intently before moving back in for another kiss. “But I am terribly easy when it comes to you, it would seem,” he said, humming once more with a not-so-subtle wiggle of pleasure as Evi’a moved a hand up to stroke his ears in turn. 

“I am also rather fond of you, and for the record, you also taste of fish so I daresay we’re even,” the bard countered, pressing kisses along the smaller miqo’te’s jawline. “But my point stands—what’s mine is yours, should you wish.” The Seeker pulled back once more and regarded him with a raw expression that he did not have time to decipher before his love rose to his knees to nip along the shell of a twitching ear. Evi’a gasped, squirming against the sheets.

“A-are you sure now is the time for this?” he asked breathily, trying to maintain some semblance of reason. “You said you weren’t feeling well, and-”

“Do I understand you to mean then that these are my quarters now as well?” the mage whispered against a swept back ear, voice dark and playful as elegant fingers trailed a heated path down the Keeper’s stomach.

“Of course they are,” Evi’a huffed, still trying in vain to wrap his mind around the sudden diversion of their conversation.

“Then get out,” his Raha ordered, primly pulling back with a raised eyebrow and an impish smile.

“...What?” the Keeper asked, dumbfounded and blinking at the sudden loss of contact.

“I’m going to try these clothes on, which your... _our_...family so generously gifted me and I did not thank them for,” the Seeker said, faltering ever so slightly but forging on despite his blush. “I’d rather you see the full effect, once I’m done. And also...also, if you remain, I’m not likely to do anything more than undress,” he added pointedly as Evi’a rose to stand. 

“I am more than capable of behaving myself,” the bard answered petulantly, pulling his love close in a warm embrace, delighting in the purr that rumbled against his chest. 

“I, however, am not,” the mage replied with airy firmness. “Now shoo.” 

Shortly thereafter Evi’a found himself banished to the hallway, tail swishing with bemusement as the door shut in his face. Still, it was good to see his love maintaining some degree of his mischievous spirit in the face of what looked to be a difficult internal battle. 

The Seeker leaned forward and rested his forehead against the door, taking a deep breath to steady himself, concentrating on the feeling of the wood grain pressed against his skin. He was absolutely serious as to his reasons for sending Evi’a away--if he didn’t bed that man one way or the other soon, he was going to implode. It wasn’t so much about the act as it was the affirmation, the need to be grounded by touch, to explore and be explored in this new form. He knew he wasn’t thinking entirely clearly, that putting on his new attire for the first time would be an emotional challenge, and if Evi’a were present, he would almost certainly take the easy and comforting path instead. And the Keeper would not begrudge him his wish for solitude--his love was clever enough to realize that his words had not solved an internal struggle centuries in the making. But...they certainly had helped. He smiled ruefully as he righted himself and made his way back to the bed. 

He _was_ easy when it came to Evi’a, and come to think, his relationship with the Keeper was the only one in his life where he’d ever fully allowed himself to feel loved and accepted. Of course there were days when guilt stirred in his heart, when doubt crept like a fog over his better judgement--but the bard’s patient, affectionate, reassuring presence always helped him sort out. Strange how such a simple reframing of the issue eased his heart. There was certainly a difference in struggling to earn the professional respect of the Scions and the more intimate and personal prospect of joining Evi’a’s family. 

He’d never had a support network on equal terms with others, and the poignant appeal tugged at his heart. 

While he loved the people of the Crystarium, respected that they’d loved him in return, there was always the wall of the truth of his purpose between them, his duty as their leader. And Lyna, his dear Lyna. She deserved better, she always had, and that he hid the truth from her for so long still grieved him. He should have sat down and told her everything himself, instead of leaving her in the crowds to hear the full story when Evi’a revealed the truth of the Warriors of Light. He loved her as his own daughter, and there were years when her reciprocated affection and his responsibility as her guardian were all that kept him going. And still, he’d kept her apart from his plans until the very end, whether more for her sake or his own he was ashamed to say he did not know. 

This...this was different. He’d laid his life and motives bare before these dear people, made dire mistakes and poor decisions for which they had suffered greatly...and yet still they forgave him. Still they went out of their way to befriend him, to care for him as a person as well as a leader. Back on the First his presence had been demanded at dinner each night, and he had even cooked for them a few times. He had harbored furtive hopes of real camaraderie, but couldn’t truly believe that they wished for his companionship beyond friendly mutual interest in a joint cause. And so each evening he’d diligently discussed his research with them, mindful that these gatherings were likely a comfortable avenue in which they might learn of his progress (or lack thereof). 

It seemed however that once again he’d subconsciously built crystalline walls around himself that he might restrain his enthusiasm and merely gaze through with reticent longing, even with these people who knew his heart better than any others. He took a shaky breath, butterflies of joy fluttering in his soul as he bent down to run his fingers over the elaborate gold embroidery of the tunic, the supple, sturdy leather of the armguards. 

They wanted him here. They expected him to journey with Evi’a, and by extension, to be a part of their lives. They weren’t asking for miracles, or incredible feats of magic, or even sagely guidance. Just for him to don these gifted raiments and in so doing accept their friendship, acknowledge that he would be a presence in their future endeavors. 

It was very humbling, and he took a moment to scrub at his eyes before he began to undress. 

Despite his newfound understanding of the Scions’ intent, he still could not quite shake the persistent dreamlike haze clouding his thoughts as he pulled on his new clothes. Everything fit perfectly, and the quality in the details was astounding. Several times he glanced at the simple wall-mounted mirror, but did not have the strength to truly look. It was not until he’d firmly laced his boots that he dared to stand and plant himself before the glass and shyly inspect how he appeared in this new raiment, this new life. 

His lips parted around a breath as he took in the full effect of his gifted apparel, a clear tribute to the service he’d done as the Exarch...as well as a spirited gesture toward his upcoming adventures. Tacit understanding that they would always remember who he was while granting him freedom to become whatever he would be, garbed in the trappings of acknowledged mutual friendship. 

It was so perfectly thought out and considerate of them, he had to cover his face for a moment before he could continue. The novelty of the smoothness of his cheeks against his palms made him swallow, and once more he opened his eyes to examine himself, this time turning his attention to his body for the first time since he’d left the Tower. There were the tattoos at his neck, far more vivid than he remembered, and soft skin sweeping down to the gentle dip of his collarbones. Search as he might, he could find no remnants of where the crystal had been, no memory of their burden etched in his skin. When he looked to his hands, they were still calloused from the bow, but all wear from his years practicing with staff, sword, and shield had vanished. 

He would almost think himself fully returned to his younger form, but his face was somehow different, more mature than he remembered himself appearing at his twenty five years of age when he sealed himself away. Feeling strangely unsettled, he stared pensively into his own Allagan eyes, daring to wonder what he would see in the soul that stared back. 

A shudder swept over him as he saw himself reflected in duality as both the Exarch and the young scholar, while he himself represented as an unknown entity. Vertigo seized him, and he had to look away. 

However, he would not be conquered by such visions, and as soon as the dizziness passed he straightened his back, lifted his chin, and looked again. This time he saw himself, as he was now--stubborn, renewed, hopeful, free...and happy. Conflicted yes, and yet uncertain and in need of healing, but happy. And, he reminded himself as he reached up to adjust his new scarf, wanted.

With a resolute nod at his reflection, he returned to the bed to pick up the package left there by Evi’a, turned it over lovingly in his hands. It seemed ungrateful to unwrap it without his love present to see his reaction, so it was time to leave the safety of their chambers, time to show them his first small steps into his new life. He rested his palm on the cool doorknob, took a deep breath, and slowly opened the door to meet his Evia’s eyes across the hallway. The admiring surprise shifting into tender reverence he found there had him looking away with a crooked smile. 

“Well,” he ventured, ears canting back with nerves as he turned the package over in his hands once more, “How do I look?”

He nuzzled into the dark palm that cupped at his cheek, tilted his face up to meet an intense night-blue gaze as bow-roughened fingers traced lovingly along his jawline.

“Raha,” the bard said, voicing his name like a prayer, “I am going to take you _everywhere_.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty heavy on introspection in this chapter, but I feel the acceptance of those clothes would have been a very Big Deal for G'raha. I've always HCed that Raha would have a hard time accepting gifts, given that his path in life has always kept him apart from others. I think too that he would feel a little awkward around the Scions in their space as opposed to the space he made for them back on the First. He's getting there though! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you wanna you can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens. 
> 
> And as always, kudos and comments are writer fuel and much appreciated!


	4. Settling In (Rated E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being invited to become a Scion, G'raha Tia spends the ensuing day in an absolute daze spending quality time in Gridania with his beloved, followed by a lovely evening at their new shared home. It's been such a halcyon, perfect day, he might as well try for that last thing he wants before it's over.
> 
> Also, an unexpected gift arrives in the morning...
> 
> Rated E, spice ahoy! Not the point of the fic per se but it's certainly there.

He sighed as he sank down to his shoulders in Evi’a’s back garden spring, heavily content even as his heart tumbled somersaults. 

What a day it had been.

He’d done his best to be graceful in his thanks to the Scions for their incredibly thoughtful gift, but he’d still stumbled over his words, couldn’t stop smiling like a fool, and couldn’t help how his fingers kept wandering from his chest to his neck to brush over the beautiful necklaces his love had made for him with beads and metals from the La Noscean mountains of his boyhood. Tired and hazy though he was, he managed to sit for lightly sweetened coffee and enjoyed hearing stories about their adventures as they planned out how to put his traveling ensemble together. They’d been at it for moons, and he’d never known, never guessed that they had harbored such aims of companionship. The more he heard—of fingers blistered from embroidering into the night, of silver that disappeared as soon as it crossed Il Mheg borders, of the first version of the outfit designed by Feo Ul that left too little to the imagination to be practical for the road—the more joy nestled into his heart and quietly unraveled the tangled skein of his doubts into more manageable threads. 

“Whatever came of the first version?” he asked, no stranger to Feo Ul’s practical jokes and rather sorry for their wasted time. 

“Oh, I have it, wouldn’t want it to go to waste,” Evi’a said with an innocent smile, and though the mage squinted at the range of reactions that followed (raised eyebrows and a chuckle from Thancred, a smile artfully hidden behind a sip of tea from Y’shtola, a pointed “Could you _not_?” from Alisaie), he smiled in the end to be reminded once more that they supported his relationship with Evi’a. Let them have their gentle teasing...in time they would find he was more than capable of answering in kind. 

As the conversation trailed into natural silence, he realized that glances were being exchanged about the room. Before he could raise his voice in question, Urianger inclined his head and spoke up.

“As thou mayst have surmised by this juncture, even as thy hopes were enkindled to return to the star of thy birth, so too have we long pondered how we might best offer thee succor should thy endeavors come to fruition. Tell me, hast thou any predisposed intent as to the path thy life shall travel in the coming years?” the elezen asked with an expression of amiable expectation.

And here he’d had to admit with chagrin that aside from joining Evi’a in working toward a better world, he had in fact neglected to consider the logistics of that inclination. 

“Well, if you’ve a mind to travel with him and do a share of his work besides, you may as well get paid for it,” Thancred said with a grin.

He’d pricked his ears in confusion.

“I’m not certain I follow,” he replied cautiously. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden on their pursestrings by virtue of his attachment to Evi’a. 

“What Thancred is trying to say, albeit rather artlessly,” Y’shtola spoke up, ignoring the gunbreaker’s protest, “is that you have done both your world and ours a profound service. Ever have you labored for the greater good, for truth, for the right of all to live a dignified, safe, and happy life. As it happens, your actions match rather tidily with the calling of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn.” 

Evi’a had squeezed his hand knowingly as his mouth went dry and his heart did a helpless tumble in his chest.

“How about it, Raha?” Krile asked, grinning proudly. “Care to come live the dream, as it were?” 

“It would be an honor to have you,” Alphinaud said with a warm smile, followed by,

“It would,” from Alisaie in quiet acquiescence. 

The rest of his day had passed in a stunned reverie. Of course he couldn’t accept right away--he was not thinking clearly and he knew it, and beyond that, such a monumental offer bore due consideration. He couldn’t quite remember what was said or how it was decided that he would accompany Evi’a to Gridania, but he was pleased to be out in the fresh air, and the smell of food chanced to bring him back to himself now and then. He was so hungry, he felt he would never be satisfied.

And so they shared freshly grilled miq’abobs on the banks of the river at the leatherworker’s guild, and bright rolanberries with lemon custard and sponge cake in a charming little cafe near the entrance of the Lavender Beds. When Evi’a asked if he wanted to sit for a while near the Carline Canopy to watch the fireworks and the airships take off, he said yes. When asked if he wanted to try Mother Miounne’s home-grown chestnut tea, he nodded. Did he want to try the fresh-squeezed lemonade and seasoned barbecue at the market stalls? Absolutely. And yes, he wanted to watch the local musicians play at the Mih Khetto, was more than pleased to fall asleep with his head on Evi’a’s shoulder to the sweet laughter of violins. He’d woken to being nuzzled awake, the bard’s tender expression softly lit by the final rays of sunset. 

“Do you want to come and see the home I would share with you?” the bard asked, warm color rising in his starry cheeks as he tried to suppress a wobbly smile. Without hesitation he’d tipped his face up to kiss his love, to breath a profound “yes” over the Keeper’s lips. 

Sweet Azeyma, how good it felt to just say yes to whatever he wanted.

Evi’a’s two-story cottage of white stone and rough-hewn walnut was as a painting from a travelogue. Deep green ivy climbed the walls,the garden was filled to bursting with flowers, and a log trellis of wisteria was set up over a modest wrought iron dining set to enjoy reading and tea outdoors. There was an emply plot of soil where they might grow vegetables together, and a brick path leading around back to an aetherial hot spring cleverly concealed by even more verdant foliage. The inside of the house was no less welcoming, permeated with the smell of cut wood from the Keeper’s diversions into carpentry and his own distinctive aetherial scent. As it turned out Evi’a had built most of his own furniture, from the kitchen cabinets to the dining table with its meticulously carved floral trim to the lovely sitting sofa near the window. And on the top floor, more plants and a gorgeous four poster feather bed blanketed in soft white cotton sheets, tucked against bay windows looking out to the forest, complete with a glade bath in a cozy alcove. It was so breezy, comfortable, and picturesque that he hardly knew what to do with himself, could not believe that he was to live in such a beautiful home with the love of his life. 

And so it was that he found himself in his dear one’s arms in their own hot spring as the crickets chirped and the moon climbed into the sky, a perfect rendition of his personal ideal of paradise.

Or near enough, if he could just convince the Keeper that he was well enough to enjoy that one last thing he wanted today. 

“You’re exhausted,” Evi’a remarked, with a chuff of laughter against his ears. “You nearly walked right into a post at the leatherworker’s guild. I had to stop you wandering off the walkway at the Carline. You tried to eat the napkin at the cafe. I gave you gil and you still forgot to pay for our lemonade.”

“Yes,” he agreed with exasperation, “but I’m hardly a danger to myself or anyone else in bed,” he added, turning to awkwardly straddle his love’s powerful thighs with what he hoped was a smoldering expression of invitation—though he conceded the effect was probably dashed a bit when the lightheadedness made him lose his balance and Evi’a had to right him again.

“You’re a danger to my heart and possibly my member at this rate,” the Keeper grinned, leaning forward to bunt at his forehead. 

“But you _are_ interested,” the Seeker whispered, pressing their lengths together with a flush of victory and rolling his hips, tail flicking behind him.

“Of course I’m interested, you fae tease,” Evi’a replied hoarsely, and he pressed his forehead to his love’s shoulder with a groan when the Keeper relented and wrapped a hand around both of their lengths, gave an experimental tug that made him gasp. Sweet Azeyma, the heat of his love pressed against him was so much _more_ than he remembered experiencing as the Exarch, and was not promising for the longevity of his stamina. “I’m just concerned about your general state...and also that you’ll bite things you shouldn’t.”

“How dare you,” he huffed, hips jerking into another sweet tug. “I never bite.”

“Oh, and what do you call what you’re doing now?!” Evi’a laughed, and he pulled back to observe the handsome mark he’d made at the juncture of his love’s neck and shoulders, leaned in for another nip just for good measure. 

“Marking what’s mine, like any respectable miqo’te?” he teased breathlessly, rocking into the heat between them.

The Keeper stilled his ministrations, and he whined at the loss. “Alright, listen,” the bard murmured, pulling him close and tangling fingers into his damp hair. “We can do this, but on the condition that you lie back and let me take care of you tonight. No last minute switching or any of that.”

He gave a grumble of complaint even as his member twitched with eager anticipation...he’d already accepted so much today, it couldn’t hurt to allow himself just a little more. Anyroad, if he were completely honest he probably didn’t have the energy or coordination to manage being on top tonight. 

“Is that a yes, or…?” the Keeper breathed against his ear, and he bucked forward helplessly, hot water lapping at their thighs. 

“If...if those are your...y-yes, please,” he whispered with a squirm, losing his clever comment to the thumb brushing over his tip. 

And so they stood and helped one another dry off, perhaps not as effectively as they might have done given that their hands kept wandering, and that he very nearly finished when his love insisted on toweling him very thoroughly between the legs. 

“Sensitive?” Evi’a murmured against his hair as he panted, tail lashing as he struggled to regain control. 

“I’ll have you know,” he said shakily, “that this body hasn’t been touched by anyone in over five years, pray consider the implications!” 

“Ah, that’s right,” Evi’a mused. “I hadn’t thought of it that way...it’s been a while for the younger fellow. I’ll be sure to make it worth the wait,” he purred, and the Seeker couldn’t help the needy sound that escaped.

An off thought distracted him as he allowed himself to be led back into the cottage, warm towel hastily wrapped at his waist.

“I never found the courage to ask this before, but...what about Ardbert?” he asked, carefully making his way up the stairs with his love behind him just in case. As much as he wanted to hurry, it wouldn’t do to injure himself and perhaps cause the bard to reconsider his offer.

“Ardbert? What do you mean?”

“You said you manifested him, that he might speak to Seto…” he ventured, cheeks coloring. “Do you think...does he mind that we…?” It was one thing for himself, as his own soul had simply merged back into one, but for Evi’a…

The Keeper laughed behind him. “Well, if he does mind, he hasn’t insinuated anything to that effect, and mostly I think he’s at rest. Beyond that, he knew how I felt about you when we merged,” he reassured as they reached the top of the stairs. 

He hummed thoughtfully as he turned to press himself against his love once more. 

“Well, if he does realize, I hope he thinks of it as a housing perk,” he said dubiously, splaying his hand over his Evi’a’s heartbeat, rejoicing in the aetherial thrum of his beautiful merged soul. 

“What?” Evi’a laughed again. “Here I thought you were embarrassed you might be making love to two men, but you were just worried for him.” 

“It’s a perfectly valid con-” he began, but was cut off with a kiss, the wicked fingers skimming at the soft spot just beneath his tail rendering him weak at the knees. 

“For what it’s worth,” Evi’a said, regarding him through his eyelashes when he pulled back, “this is one _hell_ of a perk.” They shared a chuff of laughter, and when the Keeper tugged him toward the bed, he readily followed, eased himself down onto the sheets and held out his arms expectantly. The bard was quick to follow him down, and when his love’s weight settled comfortably atop him, he gave a sigh of contentment at the warmth of their bodies pressed together. How good it was to be here, to be alive and in possession of all of his senses in full for the first time in over a century, grounded by the press of his inspiration’s skin against his own, surrounded by a scent he would always associate with love and home. 

“Sleepy?” Evi’a asked, nuzzling at his ears, and he smiled. 

“Yes, but I daresay I can stay awake a bit longer,” he acquiesced, tilting his face up for another kiss. “...That said,” he amended breathlessly a few moments later as the bard trailed fangs down the lines of his stomach and skipped over his length to graze at his thighs, “I will admit that staying awake is more of a struggle now that I’m lying down. M-mayhap I should have rested sooner.” He jerked at sweet frissions of sensation as the Keeper delicately ran fingers up his length to the tip and then back down.

“Is that a roundabout way of asking me to pick up the pace?” his love asked wryly, skimming lower.

“Mm...possibly,” he choked, pinning his ears as he struggled to contain himself. 

“Alright then,” the Keeper relented, sitting up to rummage in his bedside dresser for a moment before producing a full phial of oil. Gods, just watching him coat his fingers made the Seeker knead his hands into the mattress, pull his legs up in anticipation. When his love leaned down to nuzzle at his ears he gave a moan that hitched when one finger began to circle his entrance, and when the Keeper pressed in with practiced confidence to massage at the perfect angle, he threw his head back and dug his heels into the sheets, mouth open around a silent cry. 

“I suppose everything is in the same place then. Still good?” Evi’a breathed against his ear, and it took him a moment before he could find his words.

“Obviously,” he granted in a voice more feathery than he’d intended. “I see...mmm! I see y-you were well prepared,” he said, gesturing at the stoppered phial next to the pillow, seeking for some kind of distraction before he embarrassed himself. 

“Well, yes, I’d wanted...I-I’d so hoped that you’d…” Evi’a faltered, and his heart ached as the Keeper’s eyes shone with sudden tears that he quickly blinked back. 

“I’m here,” he murmured, reaching up to pull his love down into an embrace, bringing a hand up to smooth at silvered ears. Evi’a made a low noise against his neck, something between passion, distress, and relief. 

“I know,” the bard said tremulously, and the Seeker gasped as another finger pressed into him, hard, firm, and just where he needed it. “We’re both here.” From there he couldn’t help but cry out as his love picked up his pace in earnest, striking elegant fingers in and out at the perfect angle as he dragged fangs down his neck, peppered kisses over his face and shoulders, gave enticing little nips at his ears. Sweet Azeyma but the man wasn’t teasing, was driving him hard and fast toward completion. Just as he thought to stammer for a reprieve, Evi’a suddenly ceased his movements, looking down at him with pupils blown and a _very_ promising expression. He took a shaky breath and braced himself for those wonderful fingers to be removed, then blinked and started with a gasp of surprise as his love dipped to run a lightly burred tongue _very_ suggestively down his stomach. 

“If you--mnn!” he cried, hips stuttering and tail stiff as the Keeper’s warm mouth sank down on him without preamble. Even though the bard kept this new addition to his ministrations slow and gentle, the Seeker’s heart leapt into high pace, ears pinned and fingers clenching at the mattress for purchase as he struggled not to thrust, not to finish in mere seconds. But oh, how he’d wanted this, how he’d dreamed of it sealed away in the Tower all those years, how _good_ it always was to have this beautiful man’s mouth occupied between his legs. 

“If I what?” Evi’a asked mischievously once he’d pulled off with a sound bordering on obscene, brushing a few licks across the tip just to watch his smaller love squirm. 

“I’ll...this body...I’m going to finish,” he whined, tangling his fingers in the bard’s hair and pushing him down anyway. 

“Isn’t that the idea?” his love asked, wiggling his fingers just so. The Seeker gasped and growled with the effort of holding back, yanking at pure white locks a bit harder than he’d intended.

“W-what about you?” he managed, and the Keeper tsked.

“Come now, we spoke about this. You’re to lie back tonight and enjoy...and besides, you know you usually take me with you. Empathetic echo and all,” Evi’a reminded, ears canting back with momentary adorable bashfulness. Oh gods, if he just had more energy, the things he’d do to this miqo’te right now...Some indication of his thoughts must have shown on his face, because the bard took a shaky breath and swallowed, tail flicking erratically behind him. “May I?” Evi’a asked in a smaller voice, running his free hand over a freckled thigh. He made a helpless sound, let his head fall back on the pillow and gave a vague wave of permission, hips jolting with a cry as his love immediately followed through and swallowed him down to the base. 

He didn’t know what to do with his hands, so he stuffed them under his pillow and gripped hard, arched his back to keep himself still as that perfect mouth worked him with knowing expertise. When those clever fingers began to strike at him where it mattered his breath stuttered and went shallow, thighs trembling as his love pulled off once more to tease. 

“C’mon, Raha,” the bard murmured, dragging a few slow licks over his tip with the flat of his tongue that had him twisting with restraint. And then his love sank down on him and _pulled_ up just so, struck hard within him, and he was lost to the stars, found by sunlight...oh sweet Azeyma, he was _alive_ in his senses for what felt the first time in centuries, alive and loved and wanted and in love and oh, how beautiful just to feel and _be._

How dear it was, the way his love gave an involuntary jerk of his hips as he finally pulled away, the happy little chirrs of satiety he made as the Keeper kissed back up the planes of his freckled stomach and over his heaving chest to his neck, the way the Seeker lazily pulled him in by the ears for a kiss with a purr spared for the discovery of his own taste on his inspiration’s lips. 

“You okay?” Evi’a asked, just in case, and was answered with a “Mm,” and a breathless laugh, his smaller love still shifting and gasping beneath him with aftershocks. He couldn’t help his own chuff as he nuzzled at his Raha’s cheeks, laced their fingers together. 

“You always love that,” he said warmly, brushing kisses over the Seeker’s face. “Y’should let me do it more often.” To his surprise, the mage answered with an enthused “Mm!” and a languid stretch beneath him, underscored with a sleepy purr. He laughed again, nuzzling at silky red fur. How good it was to see his love enjoying himself, shamelessly embracing his own pleasure, learning to accept the love of those nearest to his heart. 

“Do you…” he started to ask, but trailed off as he pushed himself up on his elbows and found the mage sound asleep, ears twitching gently against the pillow, lips slightly parted with vestiges of a smile still playing at the corners. “How are you so beautiful?” he murmured, heart heavy with love as he reached out to gently tug a stray lock of hair away from his Raha’s mouth. No doubt he’d be embarrassed in the morning that he’d fallen asleep, but he clearly needed to rest. And anyway, the Keeper thought with a rueful blush, it wasn’t as though he needed any help...he’d finished completely untouched, following his lover over the edge courtesy of how deeply his empathetic echo was attuned to this beloved miqo’te. 

Or at least, that was the excuse he made to himself.

He blinked against the sunlight as he slowly drifted into consciousness, the particular brightness of the room indicating that it was well past midday. 

“Good morning, my glósóli,” a rich voice at his side purred, and when he finally managed to open his eyes and focus, he was greeted with the glorious sight of his G’raha Tia lying next to him, sunlight limning his bare form and curled tail, his crimson eyes narrowed and shining with happiness that was just a little smug around the edges. 

“Good morning,” he whispered, reaching out a hand to brush his love’s mussed red hair out of his face, to cup his cheek as their lips brushed together in a chaste kiss. He hummed as his Seeker pressed close to his side, bumped their foreheads together. 

He wanted to wake up like this every morning forever. 

They snuggled lazily for a while, enjoying the lulling comfort of their closeness, the steadiness of their heartbeats against one another. 

“Wha’d you call me?” he asked at length, breathing a kiss over the tip of a red ear as it flicked at his lips. 

“Mmm, glósóli...glowing sun, albeit in slightly childish terms. It’s the title of a story passed down through the ages by Lyna’s people. It was one of her favorites as a girl,” his love said fondly, bunting up under his chin.

“Oh?” he asked, settling in to listen. He always enjoyed the roundabout way the mage came to his thoughts.

“Do you remember I told you, when Lyna was around eight years old, I made a belated effort to see to it that she learned of and understood her heritage?” At his nod, the Seeker continued. “The Viis couple who aided me in my endeavors told me a number of children’s stories and folk tales, which I passed on to her, but “Glósóli” was always her favorite. It’s a colorful adventure, set in a time when sunlight forsook Ronka, and a single Viis child called Solmet set out amidst untold dangers to return light to the land. After a great many hardships she arrives at the ends of the world and discovers where the sun has hidden itself, distraught that the Ronkans have turned their worship solely toward the stars. Moved by her pleas, the sun agrees to return, but only if she gives her body as its host, that all Ronka might be reminded of the beauty of day. And so of course she agrees, and returns to her people in resplendent radiance. Humbled by the fortitudinous words of the sun spilling from her lips, the emperor of eld declared that from that day forth Ronka would equally honor night and day. Upon hearing this, the sun leapt from her breast and returned to the sky, but ever did she retain her courage and effulgence, earning her the name “Glósóli” amongst her people.”

“That’s a lovely story,” Evi’a said with a smile. “I can imagine Lyna enjoying something like that as a child...or even right now, honestly. I wouldn’t mind hearing it sometime in its fullness.” The Seeker gave a chuff, nuzzled at his neck.

“I had a picture book of the tale commissioned for her ninth birthday...pity, I should have liked to have shown you, if she would allow it.” He nuzzled back, smoothed an ear in silent comfort. Resolute as his Raha had been about making the trip back to the Source, it was never easy to leave one’s children behind, as he knew only too painfully. “I was thinking, watching you sleep, about different kinds of love,” the Seeker murmured. “My love for you, for her, for the Scions, for the people of the Crystarium...the ways love might have shaped my life differently if I’d have opened myself more to affection, the way I mean to let it shape me from now on. My mind wandered, and I came upon her story, and had something of an epiphany. As a child, part of why she loved this tale so was that she’d never seen true day. Of course we all longed for night, but she oft spoke of sunlight, of what might grow should the sun grace the sky once more, the rains that would follow, the smell of natural warmth. I’d quite forgotten about it, but you brought back the sun and surely as you brought back the night sky.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he allowed slowly, not bothering to retread that the return of normalcy to the First was a group effort. “I never really thought about it except in passing.” 

“Mm. Thinking on her story, of what I can recall you saying of Azem and the fourteenth yesterday…” The Seeker pulled back, fixed him with a thoughtful gaze. “I have always associated you with the night,” he said, reaching up to press a thumb against the tip of a fang, “and the stars.” A brush of fingertips over dark skin scattered with white freckles. “..but when I was dreaming in the Tower, when I was merging into one, my soul saw you...no...knew you, as the sun,” he finished, pressing his palm against the Keeper’s heartbeat. “I know not why, but to think of you so feels...correct. But as a Seeker I can hardly tease you with the name Azem, so my glósóli you are,” he declared, leaning in to bump their noses together. Evi’a gave a chuff of laughter, pulled him closer.

“I’ll take it, I haven’t had a pet name since I was a boy,” he smiled. “I’ll have to think of something in return for you.”

“I promise you, I’ll be well pleased to hear you call me “Raha” for the rest of my life,” his love replied, then took a breath at the implication in his words.

“I told you, I mean for us to share this home,” Evi’a reassured quietly, brushing a thumb over a freckled cheek. They regarded one another for a long moment, moved back in at the same time for a kiss that lingered.

There was a question to be asked, and soon...it was just a matter of who would get their preparations in line first. 

His Raha pulled away with a low noise, and he frowned at the Seeker’s pinched expression. 

“What’s wrong? Still feeling dizzy?” he asked, smoothing back an ear. Maybe it was better that they get him back to Krile. Most likely they were pushing their luck being away from the Stones so soon after his love’s awakening. 

“No...I’m just, er...very hungry,” the mage said, ears lowering in embarrassment. 

“Oh! Well, that’s easily remedied,” he grinned, pushing himself up to sit and taking a moment to enjoy the sight of this glorious miqo’te naked and at ease in his bed. “If you like you can wash up, and I’ll start seeing about lunch.”

Three quarters of a bell later found them downstairs at the table, helping themselves to a rather impressive tower of pancakes each, complete with sliced rolanberries and cream. Evi’a had never been a morning person, but cooking alongside his love was an activity he’d always enjoyed, and their companionable silence as they ate filled his heart with awed, lazy contentment. Well, possibly it was silent in part due to the rate at which his Raha was bolting down pancakes, but he was just so adorable with cream caught at the corner of his mouth and the bright perk of his ears when he got a particularly sweet berry. Also his love was wearing the mint green pajamas he’d bought for him, a matching set to his own pale blue, and that made his heart flutter all the more. 

“Not hungry?” Raha asked, eyeing the Keeper’s half finished stack of hotcakes. 

“...I think I made too much for myself, you can have them if you like,” he offered, pushing them across the table with a fond smile. 

“Mm, my thanks. Gods, I don’t know why I’m so famished, perhaps it’s a side effect of the merge,” he mumbled, already forking the Keeper’s extras onto his plate. Evi’a chuckled and was about to answer when the doorbell gave a sudden, insistent jangle. 

“That’s odd,” he said, scraping back his chair to stand. “I’m not expecting anyone…” He made his way to the door, sighed as he looked down at his pajamas. Well, he was a Keeper, perhaps they would assume this was late for him.

“Can I help you? Oh,” he said as he was greeted by the sight of a fluffy postmoogle. 

“Special delivery, kupo! All the way from the La Noscean mountains, this one, must be your family, kupo!” the little creature said cheerfully, giving an aerial spin as it produced a letter and a middling sized package. 

“Of course, probably so,” he fumbled, thrown off by the odd rush of emotion he always felt when he heard from his daughters.On the one hand he longed to know from them with all his heart, while on the other, these letters were always a reminder that he would never be allowed a steady presence in their lives, unless they elected to leave the mountains someday. Still, he wouldn’t trade this precious correspondence for the world. After signing and passing the moogle a few bonus kupo nuts, he returned to his chair and placed the package on the table quietly, turned the letter over in his hands.

“Are you alright?” the Seeker asked gently, having heard quite some time before of the reclusive ways of his tribe, the laws that forbade men from entering save four brief visits a year. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a soft smile, and he meant it, even though he knew sadness touched his tone. His treatment at the hands of his tribe was painful, but it was an old wound, and one he’d learned how to care for well enough over the years. “Do you mind if I read this?”

“Of course not, go ahead,” the Seeker said earnestly, and so he wiped away the cream and used his knife to slice open the envelope, puzzled when he produced both a letter and a secondary, sealed note. Setting the note aside, he took a steadying breath and set his eyes to the painstakingly written message. 

_Dear Father,_

_I houpe this finds you doing will. We’re blessd wth a fine sumer here and the hunts have bn gud. I’m lerning to shoot yur eld bow, mam gave it to me last moon. I’m not as gud as wth my eld bow but I will lern. When nx you come I will sho you. Seka is betr than me bat she dsn’t practis, so I’ll be betr then her in time. The dryd fish is frum her. Alki dru you a picher of the sumr fest, and shi plyd the drms verr wil. Virkai plyd the fidl, she sez she wil ply you a song whn you come this autm. Tiali snt you the flours, shi sez you can make a flourpin, and she lovs you. Merda sez helo and shi lovs you, and she snt flours to bat rlly ther weeds, I dun no if you want to wer but I sent. I med you some more herrpins, I am geting betr at it, mayb you wil nid for al the flours. That wun you sed you lov who help you, did you brng him hom yet. I no you are sad you cnt see us, bt we are strng gurls and we lov you, so dun cri. I hop that wun maks you hapi, and when i see you agin you smil and smil. I snt a letr and thng for him too, dun rid it, promis. Wen I am old enuf I wan see him to. Not lng now! Luking furwurd to seen you in autm. Lov you. Serha._

_Ai, ti is frum mam. Shi sez shi hop you are hapi and will._

He smiled, even as he swiped at the tears stinging at his eyes, set the letter down and ran his fingers lovingly over the slightly crumpled brown paper. His love reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, to which he responded in kind with a watery chuff. 

“My Serha is a thoughtful girl, I don’t know where I’d be without her messages sometimes, honestly. It’s good of her to let me know how the others are doing. They seem well,” he said, sniffling. It was always bittersweet and humbling to be reminded that they yet cared for him, to know that his children thought of him fondly as a father, despite everything...which was considerably more than could be said for the relationship of most Keeper men to their kits. It was nice to have his Raha’s fingers laced with his, warm and comforting, his love granting him the quiet he needed to compose himself. 

“This is for you,” he said at length when his voice had returned to some semblance of steadiness, passing the sealed note across the table. “She said I wasn’t to read it. Let me know if you can’t make something out...her handwriting is beautiful but her spelling needs considerable work.”

“For me?” the Seeker asked with surprise as he picked up the letter. “Why would they…?”

“I told them about you...well, to an extent. As much as possible, I’ve been open about my life to my eldest daughter, since I left the tribe.” He watched with twitching ears as his love sliced open the seal, fidgeted as crimson eyes began to study the letter. With a puff of exasperation at his own nerves, he took the package into his lap and set to opening it for a distraction. 

As always the heavy smell of the smoked tea reminded him powerfully of home, and though he usually didn’t drink it in the summer, the thought of brewing some later for Raha made him smile. It would be a sight better than the rift-dulled taste of the leaves that he’d brought to the First previously. Alekhi’s smudged charcoal rendering of the drummers and whirling dancers at Solstice captured the mood of the festival perfectly, and it did him well to see her grinning in her depiction of herself. There was an elongated bundle tightly wrapped in leaves--Sekha’s fish, no doubt, and he set it aside to share with Raha later. There was also a lovely array of periwinkle and ochre dried flowers, weeds or no, and he smiled as he held them to the light and imagined how he might set them together in a new pin. And speaking of which, his Serha was getting better at making the base pins--this set a lovely uniform black with an almost perfect degree of spring to them. 

“Your daughter loves you very much,” his love said across the table, and when he looked up the Seeker was swiping at his eyes as well. “I never would have thought your family might...well. I should like to meet her someday too,” he said with a wobbly smile. 

“I’d like that,” the Keeper said, quietly passing his Raha the last little package in the box, tied in simple brown paper much the same as the letters were written on, marked with _“For him”_. 

“Oh goodness, she shouldn’t have,” the mage said, color rising to his cheeks as he cradled the gift in his palm. But he set to opening it anyway, carefully untying the string to reveal another set of black pins, these etched in floral patterns at the ends. Warmth flooded his heart to see his daughter’s handiwork gifted to his love, could tell from the raw, tender expression on the Seeker’s face that he understood the symbolism of this offering, the hard work that had gone into fashioning the simple accessories. 

“Don’t feel like you have to--” he began, halting as the Seeker stood without a word and made his way over to the kitchen window. He watched, lips parted as his love leaned over the sink, tail curled and lips set in a moue of concentration on his reflection in the glass. After a moment’s consideration, he swept the bangs from the left side of his face and diligently began pinning them back in a criss-cross pattern. When the last pin was set, the mage tilted his head this way and that, inspecting his work, and then turned with a crooked smile. 

“Does this look okay?” he asked, ears shyly canted back. “I can try something else if it doesn’t suit.” 

The Keeper opened his mouth to speak, then got up instead and padded across the room to fold his dearest one into his arms. 

“You are...you’re...you’re unspeakably fetching,” he murmured when he found the words, and it paled in comparison to what he wanted to convey, but hopefully his Raha would understand. “I love you. I love you more than you’ll ever know.” The Seeker gave a delighted chirr, snuggled into his arms. 

“I love you too, ever and always,” his love whispered, pulling back slightly to wrap his arms around his shoulders and angle up for a sticky kiss, which was readily delivered, along with a few well-placed laps to clear away the cream. “Hmm...” the Seeker puffed against his mouth, pressing their hips closer. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to come upstairs and help an old man get dressed?” Evi’a chuffed at the mage’s openly inviting expression, the languid, sultry flick of his tail. 

“I expect getting dressed is the farthest thing from your mind right now...but yes, always happy to help.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Raha's done a lot of being on the bottom in my fics recently, I don't think he's going to put up with it for much longer XD. I think there's probably two more chapters after this and I'll be finished with the missing scene and a bit after. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed comments and kudos are writer fuel and always appreciated!
> 
> You can hmu on twitter @syrcusgardens if you like!


	5. Vestiges of a Resolved Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> G'raha remains in awe of his newfound life...but the Tower ever looms on the horizon and in the backdrop of his dreams.

When G’raha had dreamed with pained wistfulness of what he might do should he ever return to the Source with Evi’a, he’d always imagined that he would fly right into the fray alongside his love, with a spring in his step and a soaring heart. 

As it turned out, however, he was profoundly _exhausted._ When he’d tugged Evi’a upstairs he’d hoped to lead their coupling, but as soon as he was flat on his back it was all he could do to keep his eyes open. At least with a good deal of cajoling reassurances and teasing he finally convinced his love to mount him, and it was wonderful beyond words...but also knocked him out for a good three bells. They’d cleaned up after and thought to go into town for a late lunch, and now he sat waiting downstairs on the sofa with a book while Evi’a finished getting dressed. 

“Hey there,” the Keeper said gently into his ear, and he shifted groggily, pages of the tome sticking to his cheek as he lifted his head. 

“Wha? Oh Azeyma, did I fall asleep again?” he groused, pushing himself up to sit and swiping at the side of his mouth with embarrassment. “How long?”

“A little over a bell. It’s okay, I made us some salmon for lunch, if you’re hungry? We could eat in the garden,” Evi’a offered, a smile crinkling his eyes as he sat back on his heels. He stared, momentarily thrown off his annoyance with himself at the wonder of waking up like this in Evi’a’s home—their home. That this should be his life now was incredible beyond belief. 

A part of him still didn’t believe it.

He’d been inclined to apologize, but a garden picnic sounded so charming and Evi’a looked so happy that his abashment melted away. 

“I’d like that,” he said quietly, taking the hand his beloved offered to help him up. 

Even so, as he went upstairs to wash his face he couldn’t help but wonder how long this fatigue was going to last. A small, curling tendril of apprehension at the back of his mind whispered that it could be permanent, or that perhaps he was heading for one of his Tower induced slumbers. But that couldn’t be, surely not. The nature of his binding to the Tower had changed, and with his own body and aetherial means now there was no reason for the structure to force him to rest. Unless he remained more connected than he believed? He frowned as he dried his face, then shook his head to will away his troubled thoughts.

He was just tired, that was all, worn out after a century of worry, from the uncertainty about his own future and that of the Scions as he’d laboriously conducted his research into soul transferral. He knew well enough that sometimes people grew ill when stressful situations resolved themselves—perhaps he was finally relaxed enough that the multilayered struggles of years past were catching up to him. 

And so he enjoyed his meal with Evi’a under the wisteria trellis, appreciated the companionable quiet between them as they ate and the late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, the distant rumble of waterfalls adding to the idyllic ambience. When he began to yawn once more they relocated to a picnic sheet in the garden, where he curled up next to Evi’a while his love rubbed his ears and scratched away at a composition book. 

Ah, what a life.

He was jolted out of his drowsy reverie some indeterminate time later by an insistent ping from the Keeper’s link pearl, and he curiously opened one eye. Perhaps they would be off on their first adventure together soon? 

“Oh, hello Krile, is everything well? Yes, he’s with me. Oh, right. Right. That makes sense, hm. Just a moment,” Evi’a said, then removed the link pearl with an apologetic shrug. “She says she wants to talk to you.”

“Of course,” he replied, trying not to sound too excited as he pushed himself up, though his tail raking to and fro over the grass probably gave away his anticipation. Truly though, even if her reason for calling was naught of import, it was Krile, and how good it was to hear her voice again after he’d grieved the loss of her friendship over many a long solitary evening. 

“Hello Krile,” he said, once he’d gotten the ear piece in place. “Is there something amiss?”

“Don’t sound so pleased to talk to me,” she said slyly. “Perhaps I’m interrupting something? Should I call back?” 

“No!” he exclaimed, feeling his cheeks heat as he looked to Evi’a’s quizzical expression. “No,” he added more evenly. “We’re just having a...we’re just in the front garden.” 

She gave a dubious hum just to rattle him, but did not press further. Some things never changed, it would seem, and a part of him was grateful for this bit of seamless transition back into his old life. 

“I’m sorry to bother you two, but Cid sends his apologies for being unable to meet up right this moment, and is asking about when you mean to reseal the Tower. For a blessing we have the advantage against the Empire for the time being, but if it remains open the powers that be are likely to begin having discussions as to what should be done.”

“And it would be best to remove that distraction before that interest comes to fruition,” he finished for her. They were right to worry—an asset as useful as the Tower would not be allowed to remain to the side for long, and questions of rights and ownership would doubtless begin to surface. He could not blame Eorzean leadership for potentially wishing to add another advantage to their repertoire, but he had not fulfilled the ages long duty of his tribe just to see Princess Salina’s beacon of hope used as a weapon. 

“That’s the idea,” she confirmed for him. “Although, as I told them, it might be a while before your aether is actually up to the task. How are you feeling?” He frowned, glanced at Evi’a, and made an effort to be honest. 

“Tired,” he muttered, never particularly fond of complaining about his condition nor the ensuing coddling. Besides, saying it out loud felt like acknowledging that there might be an issue, and there were no issues.

There weren’t. 

“I’m not surprised, your very soul’s been through the wringer. Are you resting as I bade you?” 

“Yes,” he sighed. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. 

“Raha...is everything okay?” He swallowed, looked to Evi’a again, who frowned at him suspiciously. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d rather...I’d rather not…” 

“Rather not speak of it in present company?” she guessed, and he nodded even though she couldn’t see. 

“Er, yes.” It wasn’t that he didn’t want to tell Evi’a per se, but...he needed his warrior to smile at him right now. They’d both fought through so much, suffered so dearly...and by Azeyma, he wanted a taste of that halcyon, happy life together that he’d always dreamed of, without the Keeper worrying at every turn about his condition. “And besides that, I should like to have a look at the Tower, for my own peace of mind. Perhaps I can start seeing to the seals in a rudimentary fashion, it should be enough to keep most interference out in the interim.” 

“I don’t think it wise that you try this on your own...shall we try together? My aether is fairly drained at the moment as well, but with the two of us together we ought to be able to cobble together a decent ward for the time being.” 

He couldn’t find any real reason to argue with her; despite their less than optimal conditions, this task was not one that could be left unattended overlong. It would probably also be a good idea to let her have a look at him and make sure nothing truly untoward was amiss. 

“Yes, let’s do that. Perhaps tomorrow morning, then?”

“Tomorrow it is then! I should warn you, I remain a creature of the night and I’m deadly exhausted...don’t you dare show up here at sunrise expecting me to be pleased about it.” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Perhaps a couple bells before midday then?”

“I might be in my pajamas, I make no promises. How about I just meet you at the site once I wake? Yes, let’s do that,” she said, impishly answering her own request. 

After a little more small talk they said their goodbyes, and he explained to Evi’a what the call had been about. 

“Are you certain the two of you are well enough to undertake such an endeavor? Last I saw Krile she was pale as a ghost, and you’ll forgive me saying you haven’t been quite a ball of energy yourself,” Evi’a said dubiously, reaching out to take back his linkpearl. 

“We’ll be careful,” he said reassuringly. “I realize I don’t know my limits yet in this body, but it would do me well to find out, I should think.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” he asked, and as much as G’raha’s heart yearned to say yes, he shook his head. 

“I...need to do this on my own. There’s some things I should like to speak to Krile of after our long parting, and...I need to know I can face the call of the Tower and walk away of my own volition. Don’t worry, Krile will be with me,” he emphasized, though privately he could not blame the Keeper for the concern etching his features. His own stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch, and he realized he was nervous, perhaps not as ready to return to the shadow of the Tower as his words suggested. 

And with that echo, odds were strong Evi’a knew he was bluffing. He scooted closer to his love, pressed up against his side and rested his head on the Keeper’s shoulder. 

“Let me try,” he murmured. “If anything goes awry, I promise one of us will call you. I’ve never been happier, and believe me, I don’t mean to jeopardize myself and risk losing this.” Evi’a made a low noise of reluctant acquiescence, turned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Alright, if you’ll promise to take care,” he said softly, and G’raha bunted up into his touch.

“I will.”

  
  


Once more he groggily opened his eyes, disoriented and this time with aching ribs from falling asleep on some unforgiving, frigid surface, his cheek numb and cold when he lifted his head. 

Had the weather changed so quickly? He didn’t remember it being this cold before...

It was then that he noticed the cool cerulean glow beneath his fingertips, and bolted upright as the air left him in a rush. His frantic scan of his surroundings told him what instinct had already conveyed.

The Tower. He was in the Tower, at the site where his beloved Evi’a had vanquished the very first Warrior of Light. He’d been dualcasting the seals with Krile, hadn’t he...how could that possibly have brought him here? 

Clumsily he scrambled to stand, noting the glinting shards strewn about at his feet, presumably from when the crystal encasing him had shattered.

_Don’t panic,_ he told himself, heart battering at his ribs like a caged bird. _You’re alive, you’ve got a heartbeat, the Tower doesn’t have you._ When he looked down and saw that he was wearing the Exarch robes his teeth involuntarily clenched, and he fought down the surge of adrenaline that cried out for fight or flight. _Think, think, don’t panic._ His body seemed caught between leaden reluctance and the urge to sprint for the gates, and it was all he could do to force himself forward to further explore his predicament. As he jerkily made his way down the stairs, he tried to block out the discordant ambient noise of the Tower, the same jumble of off-key notes of ancient songs cut short, the hiss of threads of time cutting through a thousand mirrored ages. 

It was what the Tower had sounded like for those two hundred years he’d slept, a fractured melody in the backdrop of all his dreams threatening a slumber without end. 

“Don’t think about that, it’s not productive,” he muttered to himself, gathering up his robes and picking up his pace. The people would be surprised to see him, but if he could just get the gatekeep to call Lyna…

Yet when he reached the Ocular and threw open the gates that had once sealed him in, there was no one to be seen, even though the sun’s position indicated that it was well past noon. No gatekeep, not a single soul strolling through the Exedra...nothing but ethereal quiet.

When he stepped forward to investigate for himself, he slammed nose-first into an invisible barrier. Stunned, he pressed a shaking hand to his bruised face, reached out the fingertips of the other to graze over an aetherial wall of such density that his heart quailed. 

When he sought for the Tower’s aether, it did not respond. 

“No,” he breathed, pressing both hands against the cool barrier. “The terms of the pact were met,” he whispered in fae, because it seemed appropriate. “You can’t keep me here.” 

Still no response. He swallowed as the thought occurred to him that with the lessened nature of his bond to the structure, there was little likelihood that he would be able to communicate.

He stepped back from the gate, mind unhelpfully blank as he struggled for how best to proceed, fighting against the despair hooking into his soul and threatening to bring him to his knees.

“If you sit now who knows when you’ll get up,” he said to himself, clenching his fists. “There’s a way, there’s always a way…”

At least the Umbilicus still opened to him, his study as scattered and untidy as he’d left it, draped in an eerie layer of stillness. The atmosphere made his skin crawl, but he shook it off, tail lashing as he made for his research on rift dynamics. Once again his heart gave a sickening swoop at the sight of his decades of notes, but he forced himself to open the first tome, growling as his faltering mind failed to comprehend the words recorded there. 

“Raha?” Evi’a said behind him, and the tome slipped between his fingers as he whirled to face his love. “Gods, there you are, thought I’d—“

“How did you get in?!” he exclaimed, an awful hybrid of relief and horror clawing away his breath. If Evi’a was stuck here with him, if he’d trapped his dearest one by association, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to live with that guilt-ridden comfort. “There’s a barrier, I couldn’t—“

“You’re dreaming, Raha,” the Keeper gently interrupted, holding up his hands in a show of peace. “I wasn’t able to wake you, so I used the pathways of our old bond to get here.”

“Dreaming?” he asked faintly, leaning against his desk for some stability as he cast his eyes about the room. “Then...then this is…”

“It might not be. The Tower has no reason to force you to sleep anymore...maybe your soul is just tired, Raha. A merge like that can’t be easy,among everything else you’ve endured. Either way,” Evi’a said, tentatively holding out a hand for him to take. “Let’s get out of here. I’m sure you’ve had enough of the Umbilicus for a lifetime or two.”

He gave an affirmative jerk of his head, the Keeper’s fingers warm and firm as they laced with his. How Evi’a meant them to escape he couldn’t fathom, but all the same he followed.

He’d believed in Evi’a nearly his whole life, and he wasn’t going to stop now.

The Tower around them fell away gradually, the walls thinning and fading into the overgrown forest of remaining connection between their souls. It felt so natural that he hardly noticed at first, so dazed that he just held Evi’a’s hand and walked on. Ever so slowly a light bloomed on the horizon, and then there was a feeling of being weighed down.

When next he opened his eyes, he was in bed, deep navy eyes looking into his with tender concern.

“Hey there, you make it back alright?” Evi’a asked softly, brushing fingers over his cheeks. He stared for a moment, trying to make sense of his surroundings, then bolted upright.

“Seven hells!” he exclaimed, tail fluffed and lashing as he practically leapt out of bed. 

“Raha…” the Keeper murmured, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Easy, it was a dream, you’re here now.”

“It wasn’t!” he insisted, rubbing at his arms as he paced. He’d felt a forced slumber coming on there toward the end, perhaps a moon before leaving the First. He’d spoken reluctantly with Evi’a about it then, and the Keeper had felt confident that he would be able to wake the caretaker should he fall into aetherial slumber. At the time he’d been greatly comforted by the bard’s reassurances, but to have that intervention actually be necessary—and on the Source no less—was immensely upsetting. 

“Even if it wasn’t,” Evi’a said calmly, rising from the bed, “even if it was the precursor to one of your long sleeps, it was averted easily enough. You’re not going to have to go through that again, Raha.” 

“I didn’t want you to have to...to have to see this, to put up with this! That chapter of my life was meant to be closed, and that I might burden you with—“ he froze as warm arms wrapped around him from behind and pulled him close.

“You will never be a burden to me,” the Keeper whispered, nuzzling at a trembling, flattened ear. “Easy, give yourself a moment...that must have been quite a scare.” A whimper rose and died in his throat, and wordlessly he turned to bury his face against his love’s shoulder and take comfort in the dear familiarity of Evi’a’s scent, his undeniable presence. A very small part of him wanted to resent being spoken to like a frightened child, but he _was_ frightened, and Evi’a’s arm latched firmly around his waist coupled with the other hand soothing up and down his back did wonders for his composure. 

“Forgive me, perhaps I overreacted,” he mumbled at length. The Keeper shook his head quietly, and G’raha made a low noise as a hand moved up to smooth his ears. 

“You don’t have to pretend like you’re not worried about going to the Tower,” Evi’a said softly, nuzzling at the top of his head. 

“I didn’t want _you_ to worry about this,” the Seeker huffed in frustration, tears stinging at his eyes. “I wanted...I wanted…” He curled his fingers against the firm, scarred curve of Evi’a’s lower back as he struggled for the words, pressing up into his love’s encouraging bunt.

“I wanted those troubles to be finished,” he managed. It felt so selfish to speak of his woes, especially given that the general circumstances of his present situation were very nearly the fulfillment of his wildest dreams. But communication was important in any relationship, and he had to try, couldn’t allow himself to fall into his old bad habits in this renewed life. “To be free of those concerns, that you might smile at me and take my hand upon your adventures without having to constantly second guess my condition. I’ve been so tired these few days, and there doesn’t seem to be any improvement and I…” He swallowed around the lump in his throat, pressed closer to his beloved. “I just want to live a natural life.” 

“Raha…” Evi’a started, clearly searching for how to convey what he wished to say. 

“I know I’m overreacting, it’s fine, I just need a moment,” he whispered. “I promise you, I’m happier now than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“I imagine that’s a good part of why this is all so frightening,” the Keeper said gently. “This happiness has been so long in the coming, and after all you’ve been through, what we’ve both been through, it’s easy to fear having this taken away. And Raha, I know the last few moons were hard on you, spending all that time researching and agonizing over whether or not the Scions would make it home safely, not to mention the trepidation over what might happen to your own soul. However rarely you spoke of your unease, don’t think for a moment that I was unaware of how heavily your duty weighed.” 

“It wasn’t my place to complain,” he whispered, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite his efforts to blink them back. 

“It’s healthy to complain sometimes, beloved, though I would’ve hardly named that complaining were you to have spoken up. No soul is meant to stand alone and weather the storm for as long you have.”

“You know as well as I do that a good deal of my solitude was self-inflicted, and that even once you lot arrived I clung to my secrets far longer than grace allowed,” he worked out, scowling to himself as he pressed his forehead against a dark shoulder. “I’m not particularly adept at teamwork, nor including others in my designs. It would seem that although I find my duties resolved the scars of my fate yet linger.” He concentrated for a moment on the gentle, rhythmic strokes of elegant fingertips over his ears. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Evi’a asked softly, mercifully allowing the potential of a more serious conversation to fade into the background. 

“Yes,” he admitted, the confession sticking in his throat. “But for my foolish pride’s sake, only as far as Mor Dhona.” 

“Alright, that’s fair. I’m sure you’ll want some time to yourself with Rammbroes and his lot anyway, and if you need me I’ll be close by.” G’raha’s stomach gave a nervous lurch—in his anxiety about the Tower, he’d completely forgotten that he was bound to reunite with the roegadyn who had come very close to serving as a surrogate father, and whose kindness and patience he had poorly repaid. Shamed guilt seasoned with eager anticipation was an unfortunately familiar mix of emotions, and the thought of facing Rammbroes for the first time in centuries with only Krile at his side--whom he had similarly wronged and had yet to speak to at length--made his tail curl with trepidation. 

“Perhaps...perhaps as far as the Find would be acceptable,” he amended, shifting on his feet, and Evi’a nodded and pulled him closer without question. His traitorous mind whispered that he was craven, but this was a new life, and he had promised himself to learn how to reach out his hand. 

To accept love and support was not cowardice, it was bravery, and he would not allow his pride and quailing courage to hold him back from the joy so miraculously within his reach. 

  
  


Evi’a chanced a sidelong glance at G’raha as they dismounted their chocobos side by side at the Find, unsure whether he was pleased or concerned to see the steely resolve in his beloved’s eyes. The morning had been an exercise in personal patience and caution as he watched the Seeker veer between nearly manic preparations for their trip to the Tower and sudden bouts of what appeared to be paralyzing anxiety. Whatever he was feeling, he did not speak of it in his rambling as they readied their breakfast, and Evi’a knew better than to ask him at the moment. Instead he gave what comfort he could in affirming touches and choosing his words carefully. 

He didn’t blame G’raha one onze for being worried about returning to the Tower, or about his lethargic condition, but lingering on either issue wasn’t going to help for now…better to go and get what seals they could manage handled and at least have that much out of the way. Out of respect for his love’s pride he thought to keep a friendly distance between them as they silently made their way to Rammbroes’ tent in the early morning light, and was surprised when a smaller hand reached out to take his. Most of the researchers were still abed, or only just groggily making their way out with their morning tea, so for a blessing none hailed them as they passed. He had imagined this much differently, had thought G’raha would be happier about returning...but then, as a young scholar he hadn’t parted with these people on the best of notes. 

Rammbroes, however, had always spoken warmly of the Seeker in stories, and Evi’a was certain G’raha would soon find he had nothing to worry about. 

“You okay?” he couldn’t help but ask quietly as they reached the central tent, the scent of strong coffee carrying through the canvas. 

“I’m fine,” the Seeker said tersely, though his twitching ears and troubled eyes gave away his unease. 

“Let’s go, then,” Evi’a murmured, then paused when his beloved didn’t budge. 

“Oh, he has every right to be furious with me,” G’raha finally said, releasing the Keeper’s hand to rub at his arms. “May as well get it over with.” And with that he swept past and let himself into the tent, leaving Evi’a to follow him with bemusement, heart racing despite himself. 

It was a bit anticlimactic to find the roegadyn standing with his back to them as he fidgeted with something at a desk on the far end of the tent, completely oblivious to their presence. G’raha took a shaky breath at his side, ears pricked and eyes shining with tears, and Evi’a knew he needed to speak up quickly. 

“Good morning, Rammbroes,” he called softly. “Sorry to barge in so early.” 

“Eh, is that not Evi’a?” the roe asked amicably, wiping oil off of his hands as he turned to take them both in. “I’d heard you were back from your journeys a few days past, didn’t ‘spect to see you here though. Some business with the Tower again?” 

“Always,” he answered, gently reaching up to rest a reassuring hand on the small of his fidgeting love’s back. “But before that, I’ve got someone here who should very much like to speak to you again.” 

“Again?” Rammbroes asked, squinting as he finally focussed on G’raha, who was clearly making an effort not to hunch under the scrutiny. 

“Er, yes,” the Seeker offered, finally daring to look the other man in the eyes. “It has been a while, old friend.” 

The roe stared at him for a moment, and the way his eyes widened and he took a step back as realization dawned was very satisfying. 

“Seven hells,” he breathed. “Oschon’s beard.” 

“I do hope those are pleased curses,” G’raha said, somehow pulling off jaunty and nervous in the same tone. 

“I’d heard through Cid several days past that the Scions meant to attempt waking you,” Rammbroes said incredulously, crossing the tent in several long strides, “but so soon! Look at you, G’raha Tia himself, back from another star! And the way the warrior here goes on about you,”--he paused to jerk a thumb at Evi’a, who shrugged with a sheepish smile--”you’re quite the hero yourself these days!” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that, I--” G’raha began self-consciously, then started as large, ink-stained hands came to gently rest on his shoulders, his former mentor looking down to him with open fondness. 

“Look, I’ve had lots of time to think about this, an’ if you’re worried I’m upset with you, don’t be. You did us all a great service with your sacrifice back then...we just didn’t know it yet.” 

G’raha’s eyes widened, and his mouth worked for a moment before words came.

“To be absolutely fair, in ruminating on the motives of my younger self, I’m shamed to say I was rather selfish, and there’s much and more I could have done better. All the same...here we are,” he finished with a rueful smile. 

“Here we are,” Rammbroes repeated with a smile of his own, then blinked and stepped back, rubbing at his head bashfully. 

“I, uh, have some coffee brewing, if you two’d care to visit a spell. There’s a lot of catching up to do, more than we’ve time for this morning, I ‘spect.” 

“That would be lovely,” the Seeker said earnestly, flashing Evi’a a happy glance. 

Immensely relieved that all had gone well, Evi’a followed the roe back to his ancient rickety table and pulled back his customary chair, G’raha hesitating only a moment before following suit, sitting up a little straighter than necessary. The Keeper gave a chuff of fond laughter and reached out to squeeze his beloved’s hand under the table, looking to G’raha meaningfully as Rammbroes busied himself at the coffee pot. 

_See? You’re wanted, you’re loved._

The Seeker blushed and looked away to the tabletop, a soft smile curving his lips. 

“Sorry ‘bout the mugs, they’re in about the same sorry state as the day you left, plus a few chips an’ cracks,” Rammbroes said as he set their coffee and a bit of cream on the table, then pulled up his dangerously creaky chair.

“There’s cream now, is there?” G’raha asked, raising his eyebrows, and the roe sighed. 

“Yeah, your warrior here came to visit a lot after you called him off to the First, and once he took to bringing his own milk, I thought maybe it were poor hospitality to make the man who regularly saves us all have to go to the trouble. He’s ruining the coffee, mind you, but I suppose that’s beside the point.” 

“Time has mellowed you, my friend,” the Seeker murmured as he took a lengthy sip of the straight dark brew out of sheer stubbornness. “Gods, this smell brings back so many memories.”

“So, how’re you finding the coffee now, with a few centuries under your belt?” Rammbroes asked, peering at G’raha intently. 

“It’s wonderful,” the Seeker said immediately, and the roe gave him a flat look. G’raha closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them with a sharp grin that Evi’a hadn’t seen since his beloved was a much younger man. “Alright, it’s shite, if you must know, still the same spoon-melting sludge, but I’ve had a certain masochistic craving for this foul concoction for many a long year.” 

“That’s more like it,” Rammbroes said, sitting back in his chair with a nod of satisfaction. “Use the cream and be done with it, you complained about the lack enough back then.”

“I think I’ll drink it how it is,” G’raha said pleasantly, and the site leader gave a bark of laughter. 

“Still the same stubborn git. But tell me, how’d you manage to get back here with all your aetherial bits put together?” 

“The result of group effort and a good deal of research,” the Seeker said, taking another sip of his coffee. “You see…”

As ever his beloved was always most at his ease speaking of history and research, and Evi’a watched with warmth and relief as G’raha’s posture relaxed little by little over the course of their conversation, his gestures growing more animated as he gained courage. As for the Keeper, he was content just to be there and bask in his mate’s happiness as their talk meandered in and out of deeds past and present, of people they’d known and old coworkers who’d moved on with their lives. 

“You’ve not been back long, have you spoken to Cid?” Rammbroes asked presently, after opening a surprisingly quality tin of biscuits. 

“Ah, no, it’s been...I fear I’m still recovering from my return, and there’s a great deal I have yet to set in order. The Tower being one of them,” G’raha said, taking his third strawberry jam cookie, Evi’a noted. He would have to ask the roe where he’d bought them so he could surprise G’raha with more later. 

“The Tower, so soon?” Rammbroes asked with raised eyebrows. “Don’t you think it’s a bit early for that, considerin’? No one knows it’s open anyway. Hells, we didn’t even know, and we’re set up practically at the base. Fairly embarrassing, if I’m honest with you.” 

“My apologies, we teleported. I didn’t have it in me to make the journey after I woke. But yes, sooner is better, and Krile will be helping me. I’m under no illusions that we’ll complete the task today, but frankly, I’ll feel better once we’ve started.” 

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Rammbroes acknowledged, rubbing at the back of his head onc more. “But, er...it’s open again, you say...you reckon there’s time to have another look around before you go to lockin’ things up? It’s been a while, and it was quite the endeavor getting it opened in the first place.” G’raha frowned, brows knit in a conflicted expression, then sighed. 

“The Tower is my legacy, but though I am its caretaker it has never truly belonged to me. You’re welcome to go my friend, but if I may, I’d like to ask that you go alone. The true nature of the Tower is grandiose and beautiful, but also not to be trifled with, and at this point, the fewer who enter the better.” 

Rammbroes looked to him thoughtfully, rubbing at his chin. 

“I take it you’re going to be writing about this ‘true nature’ of the Tower one day?” 

“Abundantly, and with great enthusiasm.” 

The roe chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Well, if that’s the way of it, I’ll look forward to yer work. If anyone knows the Tower it’s you, and I won’t give you another thing to worry about just to sate an old man’s curiosity. When are you thinking to start?” 

“Thank you,” G’raha said, clearly touched. “I expect we’ll begin once Krile arrives, but like myself she is also recovering from a great aetherial ordeal. It may be past midday.” 

“Well, if you need to rest before givin’ it a go, there’s open tents. No point forcin’ yerself, and if you don’t mind me sayin’, you’re looking a bit pale. More so than usual, that is.”

“I don’t expect I could sleep right now if I tried, but my thanks for your offer. Perhaps Evi’a and I will take a ride to pass the time?” he asked, looking questioningly to the Keeper. 

“Sure, if you want--I reckon we can have a picnic somewhere,” he answered with a smile. 

“Never could keep either one of you still for more than a few bells,” Rammbroes grinned. “I should be gettin’ to work, but take the biscuits with you, and drop back by before you leave. It’s been a real pleasure to see you both.”

And so Evi’a said his goodbyes and made his way out first, when G’raha seemed comfortable with being alone with his old mentor. He didn’t know what they spoke of, but when the Seeker emerged from the tent, his step was lighter, as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders. 

“Where do you want to go?” Evi’a asked, watching as his beloved turned to look serenely to the Tower on the horizon. 

“Do you remember that time I waylaid a malboro that attacked you while you were fishing, and insisted upon fighting it on my own?” G’raha murmured, and Evi’a gave a wincing smile at the memory. 

“How could I forget? We both ended up reeking, the smell lingered in my hair for a week. Why do you ask?” 

“I think I should like to return to the bluff overlooking the swamps. Far enough to be away from the stench, but I’d like to reminisce. And they _are_ fascinating creatures to watch, when they aren’t inflicting themselves upon you.” 

A bell later found them on the sun-warmed bluff, enjoying a simple lunch of miq-abobs and leftover biscuits. 

“Feeling better?” Evi’a asked softly as he used his thumb to brush a bit of jam away from the corner of his love’s mouth. 

“I am,” G’raha said quietly, leaning forward to bunt at his forehead. “I believe I’m beginning to accept that...that comrades old and new are pleased to have me here. I was so convinced it would be otherwise, and now…” He shook his head and smiled. “My heart is so full, and even with this fatigue, I’m more alive, more...more myself than I imagined I ever would be.” He turned again to look toward the Tower on the horizon. “I can’t say my worries have completely dissolved, but they are certainly less, and to be here, with you, like this…” He turned to Evi’a again with a soft smile, the sunlight making his crimson eyes seem to glow brighter than ever. The Keeper blinked, then chuffed and adjusted his position as his beloved laid down and rested his head on his lap. “Come what may, the Tower will never hold me again,” G’raha murmured, the beginnings of a purr rumbling in his chest as Evi’a began to stroke silky red ears. 

“No, it won’t,” Evi’a whispered, and gently smoothed his mate’s ears long after the Seeker had dozed off, nostalgically looking out over the dappled foliage and crystalline landscape that had tumbled through their younger days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but pleased to return to this one! This chapter ended up longer than I thought...I figure there's probably two or three left in it for what I want to tell before the events of 5.4 begin. Thank you to everyone who is still reading, and if you enjoy, comments and kudos are very encouraging! I'll be bouncing between this and a couple of my other multi-chaps, but hopefully updates should be more regular. 
> 
> Also, if anyone is wondering about some of the details referred to on and off in this fic, my other fic "An Age of Gold Flowing" is Evi'a and G'raha's story through a semi-AU ShB. There are also short stories about their relationship in my FFXIV Write Collection "Refractions of a Greater Truth."


End file.
